Roses are Red and Violence is Cool
by IronicSnap
Summary: What if Bellwether wasn't around to prevent Judy from being fired? The sly bunny refuses to give up; she's going to make the world a better place or die in the attempt. Nick is pretty sure that second thing is more likely. [New cover by RadicalRobo!]
1. Red Light

As Bellwether entered the huge glass doors of ZPD headquarters, she was still shaking off the frustration of the drive over. Four red lights in a row! Unprecedented. This was supposed to be a short visit; she didn't have much time to spare. Lionheart was working her to the bone, as usual. The curator of the Natural History Museum was asking for more renovation funding, as usual. The new freezing units for Tundra Town were causing unexpected problems, as usual. And the subway system was in terrible shape, as it had been every year since it was first established.

There was also her secret crusade to plunge the city into a state of racially-charged fear, ruining Lionheart's ability to function as a leader and sweeping in to take his place. But that was a personal project. She didn't do that during work hours.

She passed through the front lobby, past a despondent otter. She gave the woman a sympathetic smile, but didn't break her stride. She was late already. In and out.

Clawhauser, the usual receptionist, was manning the front desk. Unusually, however, he wasn't eating – he was slumped in his chair, sucking in breath. He looked up and saw her. "Oh! Hey... Assistamay'r... Bell... wether!" he managed between wheezes. He flapped a hand at her in a rough approximation of a wave.

" _What's got this fat idiot so out of breath? Did he finally get off his butt and do some actual work?_ " thought Bellwether. She gave Clawhauser a big smile and chirped "Hey, great to see you, Ben!"

"You... too...!"

After conquering the mountainous trek up to Bogo's office, she knocked delicately on the door. "What _**now?**_ " came his voice from inside. Bellwether paused for a second. Bogo was perpetually angry, but in a focused way. This kind of tone was rare.

But she was late. In and out.

She pushed the door open. "Hello, Chief!" she sang. "Just sticking my head in. How are things?"

Bogo was viciously scribbling on some paperwork. He barely glanced up. "Bellwether. Not a good time."

"Oh, I hear that! I'm swamped too, so I won't be here long." She smiled up at him. "So...! I'm curious about our latest recruit! How's she doing?"

Bogo didn't look up. "Fired."

It took a moment for Bellwether to process the word. She didn't usually mishear things – effective interpersonal communication was a vital skill for any politician – but there was no possible way he had just said what she _thought_ he had said. "I'm sorry, come again?"

"She's. Fired." He dropped his pen, glaring at the nameplate on his desk. "I fired her. She is currently in the process of being fired."

Bellwether's eyes widened. "You _what?!_ How could – you – she's been here less than a week! You _fired_ her?!"

"She gave me no **choice!** " roared Bogo suddenly, slamming a fist on the desk. He glowered at Bellwether for a moment, his huge chest heaving. Then the moment passed and he was back to his usual precise anger. "You can read the report for yourself. She was unfit for duty, and _insubordinate_. Your little initiative _failed_."

Bellwether was at a loss. Fury swirled inside her, but it was too soon, and right now that fury was aimless, dangerous. She got where she was today by applying her anger correctly.

With few other options, Bellwether simply drew herself to her full, unimpressive height, looked Bogo in the eye, and said "Mayor Lionheart will hear of this."

"See that he does," said Bogo. "In fact, the sooner the better. Get out of my office." He turned back to his work. "I've got a precinct to run. Not a daycare," he muttered.

Bellwether turned on her heel and marched out of the room, not bothering to hide her sneer.

 _Dammit_.

* * *

Zootopia may be the city where anyone can be anything, but it is still, nonetheless, a city. While news of the first rabbit cop's abrupt and unceremonious firing raised a few eyebrows and caused a few murmurs and prompted a few daytime television talk segments, life continued.

Life continued for Lionheart, who faced mounting pressure from the demands of his office, both public and secret; for Bogo, who grew steadily more stubborn about his decision while Precinct One's officers began to whisper to each other about the fate of the new girl; for Bellwether, who threw herself at her work, furious that a useful pawn like Hopps could be knocked off the board for such an asinine reason; and for Nick Wilde, who found himself sipping a soda in a dark and noisy bar.

It was flat.

"So buy another one," grumbled Finnick, who was on his third drink. None of them had been sodas. "Don't just... sit there and complain. Do something."

Nick lay his fingertips on his coaster and gently pushed his drink away. "I think I'll pass," he declared. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the thumping music. "It's been a long day. I'd only stay here to shake some idiots down for cash, and it's too loud to crank out the charm."

"Speak for yourself," replied Finnick, looking over Nick's shoulder to a trio of vixens giggling by the bar. "I'm spending my hard-earned money here."

"Knock yourself out." Nick slid out of their booth, shrugging on his coat. "But don't have too much fun. Tonight's a schoolnight, young man. We got work in the morning."

Finnick just grunted.

With a brief nod, Nick pushed through the crowd and out into the street. It was cold but blessedly quiet. Finnick's taste in bars was terrible. Nick couldn't fathom how someone with ears that large could stomach a place that loud. Maybe the alcohol helped.

Paws in the pockets of his thick, dark green coat, he set off. This part of town was badly lit, and shadows loomed everywhere. Nick didn't care. He was more concerned about the temperature. It was an unusually cold night for June. The wind was blowing in from Tundra Town. He'd almost expect to see –

"Well _look_ who it is!"

Nick started, but forced himself to keep calm. He looked down the alleyway the voice had come from. Two polar bears emerged from the darkness.

Nick bared his teeth in a vague approximation of a smile. "Kevin! Raymond! What brings you two out to... not-Mr Big's territory...?"

"An errand," Raymond said, and Nick was quietly thankful he stopped there. "We didn't expect to run into you. What a pleasant surprise." He stepped towards Nick, while Kevin moved to the side, trying to block the way Nick had been walking.

Nick shuffled backwards slowly – he knew better than to turn his back before he had to. "Well it's always a real pleasure to see you guys – wereallygottacatchupsometime – but it's late and _I'm_ late and my mom is waiting for me to get home, so..."

His attempt to appeal to the sacred image of family was unsuccessful. "'My _mom_ is waiting for me'..." chuckled Kevin. "God, Wilde. You sound like a baby."

"He _is_ a baby," rumbled Raymond. "Only a baby would think it'd be funny to sell the boss a rug like that."

Nick's eyes widened while his smile desperately stayed in place. It wasn't a great look. "T-the rug, huh? The skunk rug? The rug that I feel really, really, really bad about selling Mr Big and that's why I never came back into his territory and honestly I feel like that's a system that's working for everybody? That rug?"

"Yeah," said Kevin. "That rug." They advanced.

"Guys, guys," said Nick, as smoothly as he could. "Mr Big wouldn't want you to do anything rash. It's not his style to just... beat a guy up on the street for something that happened a long time ago."

"Yeah," said Raymond. "But y'know whose style that does sound like?"

"Our style," said Kevin.

"Yeah. Our style."

Nick abandoned his crooked smile. Not enough energy. Instead he threw his paws up. "Please, if he's mad about the rug –!"

"We're **all** mad about the damn rug!" shouted Raymond. Then he broke into a sprint.

Nick turned and ran.

He had fled plenty of tight spots in his life, but apparently he was out of practice. He only made it a short distance down the darkened street before a meaty paw closed around his tail.

Nick had just enough time to say "Waitwait **no!** " before lurching backwards. There was a sharp pain at the base of his spine, but then Raymond grabbed him by shoulder and flung Nick against a brick wall and suddenly the first pain didn't seem like such a concern.

Nick exhaled shakily as the two bears loomed over him. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. Suddenly he was eight years old again.

He hated it. He always hated it.

"What do you think, Kevin?" said Raymond, cracking his knuckles. "Start with the face?"

"Yeah. The face. I'd like to see him try to con somebody with half his teeth missing."

Nick closed his eyes, curling himself inward more out of instinct than any hope of –

" **Hey!** "

Nick forced his eyes open, looking upwards. The voice had come from above. He and the two bears craned their necks.

And stared.

Standing above them, balanced on a rusty fire escape, was a figure dressed entirely in black. She wore a black bodysuit with a black balaclava and a black belt with black pouches. She glowered down at them, her stance firm.

The problem with this image was that she was a tiny bunny. Her ski-mask had two holes cut in the top for her tall ears.

She kept her voice low and harsh. "Step away from the fox. I won't tell you again."

Kevin and Raymond shared a look. Then they both looked to Nick. Nick opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I don't know either," he said finally.

Raymond turned his attention back to the rabbit. "Just who the hell are you?"

"A concerned citizen," she replied. "Now are you going to leave this man in peace, or do we have a problem?"

The bear's eyes narrowed. "No, we don't have a problem. A rabbit playing dress-up is not 'a problem'." He tapped Kevin's arm. "Get her down from there. She needs to be taught respect."

"Mmh." Kevin moved towards the fire escape, intending to shake the entire structure. "Alright, you dumb bunny, you'd –"

Like a bullet the rabbit shot down from the railing and kicked him in the face.

"What the **h** –" yelled Kevin but she was already moving, jumping to the wall and kicking off and sinking her foot in his chest. He wheezed and she rolled under him and grabbed his ankle and twisted it. Then she slammed her shoulder against him with as much force as she could muster and he fell.

Raymond stared, but managed to push past his shock. He darted forward with surprising speed and grabbed the rabbit by the neck. With a brutal motion he slashed his claws into her face. The rabbit let out a gasp as the fabric of her mask tore. Nick, who had been watching in silent awe, suddenly felt himself tense.

Raymond straightened up, glaring at the rabbit struggling in his grip. He glanced down at his own claws. "See that?" he sneered as his eyes picked out red against his white fur. "You bleed like everyone else, girl. Something you should remember the next time you –"

She sank her teeth into his hand.

" **Agh!** What is _wrong_ with...?!" He reflexively loosened his hold and the rabbit fell, tucking into a crouch. She unclipped a taser from her belt and stabbed it into his knee.

Raymond's cry of agony cut through the night air.

He lost his balance, leaning against the wall while heaving in breath. She clipped the taser back into place, and turned back to Kevin just in time to get kicked in the chest.

Kevin punted the rabbit into the wall and she bounced. Nick saw how her torso hit the brick and he felt a pang of concern. He winced, berating himself for his inaction. He should have fled by now. But he couldn't to force himself to stand.

Kevin stomped towards the rabbit, furious. She was curled on the ground, unmoving. Kevin snarled. "I'm gonna tear you limb from **limb** , you hear me?!" He leaned down, his bringing his head, his face, his gleaming teeth in close. "You're never gonna–"

As soon as he was close the rabbit sprung up, but now she was holding a small bottle of something. Something she sprayed directly into his eyes.

Kevin roared, clutching his face. The rabbit got to her feet, glancing between him and Raymond, who was still huffing in pain.

No time like the present.

Nick felt a brief chill of fear when her eyes landed on him. It was completely ridiculous, a snide voice in his head declared. But it happened nonetheless.

She moved over to him, touched his paw, looked him in the eye, and said "Run."

Nick nodded.

Then he ran.

She ran with him, and together they escaped, leaving the polar bears behind. Neither spoke. Nick almost felt like he was in a dream. None of this seemed quite real.

After a few minutes his lungs were heaving and his legs were wobbling so Nick veered into an alleyway and laid a hand against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The rabbit followed him.

She jogged to a stop. She didn't seem even slightly winded. "Is this far enough? Can you get home okay?" She spoke with gentle authority, apparently at ease with the blood trickling down her cheek.

"Yeah," wheezed Nick. He swallowed, then took a deep breath. "Yeah," he said, more firmly. "This is fine. I'll be fine." He wasn't just saying it because of his desperate need to stop moving. That was, admittedly, a factor. But his house was close.

She nodded slowly. "Glad to hear it. Be careful, sir, alright?"

"Sure. Sure." He let out a shaky breath. He turned away from the wall, looking at her feet. "Thank you... for that. Really."

"Don't worry about it," she smiled. "I like helping folks out." She turned and began to walk away.

Nick watched her for a few seconds. Part of him wanted to just let her have her moment. But he couldn't resist the temptation.

"Even jerks like me? That's admirable, Hopps."

The rabbit froze.

"It _is_ 'Hopps', right?" he continued, straightening up. "Judy Hopps, the meter maid who got fired? I've got a pretty good memory when it comes to names. And voices. And faces, but oh, you're wearing a mask. Forget that last part, I guess."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said the rabbit stiffly. She didn't turn around.

"Sure you do. Remember, a couple weeks back? You wandered into one of my hustles and tried to shut me down... What was that fun little nickname I had for you? Was it 'Podunk'? Something like that... Then I gave you a very helpful pep-talk about how you'd never amount to anything." He cleared his throat. "I'm... I guess I better walk that one back, huh? Looks like you haven't gone home yet."

There was a pause. She still didn't face him.

Nick sighed. "Look. I owe you, rabbit. So come on. I'll patch you up."

"What?"

"You're hurt," said Nick slowly, "and I am offering to you, for a limited time only, completely _pro bono_ medical care from a guy who has a rough idea of what he's doing. That guy being me."

"I'm fine," she said briskly.

"No, you're bleeding. You might even have a cracked rib. You don't want to get into any fights like that, and I don't want to owe you any longer than I have to. So just let me do this, and then we'll be even and we'll go our separate ways. Alright?"

She didn't reply, and after a moment Nick shrugged.

"No, good point. It'd probably be better for you to go see a real doctor. Howsabout I call for an ambulance and tell them Judy Hopps was just in a street fight, and–"

"Stop!" she snapped. She turned to glare at him – he could just about make out the purple of her eyes against the black mask. And the red wound. "Why are you being so weirdly insistent about this?"

"Because I don't like owing debts," said Nick darkly. "I get by without anybody's help, because if someone helps you, they inevitably want _you_ to help _them_. So it'd be a big help if you helped me help you, so we can stop helping each other."

She watched him silently for a few seconds. "...You understand why I might have difficulty trusting you."

Nick shrugged. "That's fair. More than fair, really. Kind of a relief. Only an idiot would trust me. But that's all the more reason to rip this bandaid off quickly, huh? Proverbially speaking, of course. You're gonna need to put one on, first."

The rabbit hesitated for a few more moments, but then sighed, relenting. She glanced around, but the alleyway was empty. Slowly, she removed her mask, taking care not to rub the fabric against her bleeding cheek. Nick watched her. After a few seconds, her mask bunched in her paws, Judy Hopps looked up at him warily.

"Oh my god," said Nick flatly, "it's youuuuu."

She shoved him.

* * *

On the walk to Nick's house, her mask held against her bleeding cut, Judy explained her situation. Nick hadn't asked, but he didn't stop her.

Judy explained the disastrous day she chased Weaselton. She explained that Dawn Bellwether, the Assistant Mayor, had been very sympathetic and promised to support Judy any way she could. Bellwether had said that with Lionheart's support, they could be able to get Judy back on the force, maybe even in Precinct One. But days turned to weeks without progress.

Judy explained how she had sunk into depression for a while. This wasn't helped by her parents, who did their best to _sound_ sad, but repeatedly reminded her that she could come home any time now that this whole police officer phase was finally, mercifully, over. Judy would spend long hours lying on the bed in her tiny apartment, staring at the ceiling. But to her own surprise, it wasn't self-pity. Not entirely, at least. Yes, she had ruined her lifelong dream, but that dream was to improve the world, to help people. People like Mr and Mrs Otterton.

People who needed help, and weren't getting it.

Judy explained how she kept coming back to the missing mammal epidemic that had hung over her brief career. She continued to keep an eye on it has closely as she could. The ZPD were making no progress. In fact, from what she could tell, more mammals went missing as time went by.

She realized she had to do something.

Nick kicked a pebble. "So naturally, you bought a ski-mask and a weird wetsuit thing and started wandering around at night, looking for crime."

"Well, actually, I only bought the mask," said Judy. "The suit is one of the special-made uniforms the ZPD gave me when I graduated. It's pretty tough – the belt's kevlar, and the rest is neoprene. I just dyed it black."

"Of course." Nick's eyes narrowed. "How do you dye neoprene?"

"With difficulty!" said Judy brightly.

"Uh huh." Nick came to a driveway and slunk through the gate. "Well, we're here."

Judy looked up at the house marked '1955'. It was small, but quite comfortable for only one occupant. The colours were muted by the night, but she could see how the dark green roof contrasted the faded orange brickwork of the external walls. The short stretch of lawn was unkempt and needed weeding.

"Nice place," murmured Judy.

"Thanks," said Nick briskly. "Admire it while you can; you'll never be here again."

As he unlocked the front door, Judy smiled up at him. "Listen, even if you're being weird about this, I appreciate your help."

"Hmm," said Nick. He opened the door and they both stepped into the narrow front hall.

"And as soon as this is done, I'll go back out on patrol, and" here she stopped, for a long time, as a yawn overtook her, and she put the back of her paw to her mouth, and it slowly passed, and Nick gave her an odd look, and then it was over, "I'll be out of your fur!"

Nick glared. "Podunk," he said sourly, "when was the last time you slept?"

"I'm usually too busy to sleep," said Judy easily, as though that was somehow an acceptable answer.

Nick rolled his eyes, sagging. "In there," he said, pointing to a door. "On the couch." He headed up the staircase. "I'll be back."

She watched him for a moment, but then caught herself. It would be rude to ignore him. She pushed open the door and came into his sitting room – a deep green couch, a small coffee table, an elderly television. There was a fireplace on the far wall, though it didn't look like it saw much use.

Judy's eyes were drawn to the mantelpiece, which was sparsely decorated with a few framed photographs. She walked closer, looking at one in the centre. It seemed like the photo was taken a few years ago; Nick looked younger, but not by much. He was quietly smiling, alongside an older vixen in a lilac sweater.

Judy realized she had sort of forgotten that people like Nick Wilde had mothers.

She heard him coming down the stairs. She quickly scrambled to the couch, fighting off a sudden feeling of guilt.

She sat on the couch and laid her mask next to her. He entered a moment later. In one hand, he was holding a small first-aid kit. Under his other arm was a pillow and some blankets, which he unceremoniously dumped next to the couch.

He sighed. "Because of your terrible decision making, I have extended my offer. If you want, I will allow you to sleep on this couch. Instead of... wandering around until you pass out and fall into a river or something. Just a hypothetical."

"Oh." She blinked. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes I do," he said resignedly. "Offer it, at least. You moron."

"How could I turn down such a pleasant host?" murmured Judy, raising an eyebrow. But once she actually entertained the idea, she found it was fairly tempting. Saving Nick hadn't been the first thing she had done that night. Besides, her apartment wasn't much more inviting than a stranger's surprisingly soft sofa. "Actually, I'd... like that. If you really don't mind."

"I don't," said Nick unenthusiastically. He looked away to turn on a nearby lamp. "Now, let's get this over with."

His eyes returned to Judy, and he stopped. She was watching him with a wary, vaguely nervous expression. "What's the matter?" said Nick, irritation creeping into his voice. "You worried I'm gonna eat you, or something?"

"No! Of course not."

"Well, I won't," he said calmly. "I try to vary what I have in a day, and I already devoured a rabbit for lunch."

Despite herself, Judy laughed; short, sharp, mostly borne from surprise. "Don't joke about stuff like that!"

"Mmh, that's what he said," grinned Nick. "Really, I gave him _ample_ time to realize I wasn't kidding. Guess that's the thing about the gene pool, right? You could've ended up dating that guy. I did you a favour."

She shook her head, smiling. "Jeez, Nick..."

"Alright, hold still." He knelt next to her. After briefly examining her torso, he moved along her ribs, prodding each one in turn. "Does this hurt?"

"Yeah, it hurts," muttered Judy. "You're poking me."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, since that was a sassy one-liner and not a blind scream of agony, I'm gonna say you don't have any cracked ribs. Lucky you. Now let's get a look at that cut."

He cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head to better catch the light. Judy blinked, awkwardly trying to keep her eyes on the wall. Nick's fur felt slightly wet; he must have washed his hands while upstairs.

"Hmm," he said. "Like I thought. It's not too bad. Facial cuts are like that... they bleed a lot even when they aren't serious." He laid the first-aid kit on the table, opening it out. "It's a simple fix. I'll apply some disinfectant, then bandage it. Nothing fancy, but better than nothing. A lot better."

"Oh. Okay. Sounds good." She watched him produce a small tube of white gel. "Um, where did you learn this stuff?"

"Where did you learn to ask pointless, invasive questions?" he replied breezily. "Oh, right. Police academy. Of course."

He began to dab the cream into her cut. Judy winced, and he stopped, and she said "No no, it's fine. Just wasn't ready."

"Hmm." He continued.

Judy's eyes wandered to her balaclava. It was torn, and thoroughly caked with her own drying blood. "Guess I should've bought more than one mask. Don't think I can clean it..."

"You should just wear red," murmured Nick, almost sleepily.

"...You think so?"

"Sure," he said, though he didn't sound that interested. "You pick black for stealth? I don't think it matters that much. At your size, you can just hide in nooks and stuff. Camouflage is less of a concern."

"Maybe I picked black 'cause it's scary," said Judy, smirking.

Nick scoffed. "In that case, _definitely_ switch to red. Again – I can't stress this enough – you are tiny. You aren't gonna convince anybody that you're the vengeful spirit of the night itself, or whatever." Judy frowned, but he kept his eyes on his work. "Red, though? Doesn't matter how small it is, if something red is flying right at you... that's scary. It's, y'know, instinctive. You're fast. Use that."

"Huh," said Judy. "Um... thanks. That actually sounds like good advice."

"Eh," said Nick.

He put away the cream and rifled through the kit for a bandage. Silence settled back in, but it wasn't comfortable. At least, not for Judy. Eager for more conversation, she remarked "I should probably upgrade while I'm at it. Get something a claw won't just cut through. Something more... armoury."

"That's not a word," Nick murmured. "Well, it is. But it doesn't mean what you apparently think it means."

"Seriously," she continued. "The best offence is a good defence. I'm pretty good at dodging, but I gotta be able to take a hit, right?"

Nick said nothing.

He produced a small adhesive bandage – small by fox standards. It was more than large enough for Judy's wound. He delicately applied it, smoothing the edges with his thumb. "All done. And the delicious scent of your raw blood didn't _once_ drive me into biting your face off. Outstanding."

"Great job," said Judy, gently feeling the bandage on her cheek. She smiled at him. "Could I get a popiscle for being a good patient? I hear you're the guy to ask for that kinda stuff."

He smirked. "You heard right, but no. Don't have any on me. Besides, it's too close to your bedtime, bunny."

"Oh well. Thanks... for everything." She looked him in the eyes. "Really."

"You're welcome." Nick quickly glanced down at his watch. "For, let's say... six more hours. Then you are no longer welcome. This isn't a hotel, understand?"

"Sure." She glanced over at a clock on his mantelpiece. "Yeah. I can be gone by then. It'll be like I was never here."

"It better be." Nick glared at her for a second, but then his eyes wandered to the window. He coughed. "It'd... I don't want to have to explain to visitors why my sofa smells like rabbit blood, got it? I have a reputation to maintain."

She gave him a quiet smirk. "I thought you said you ate a rabbit earlier today. What's the problem?"

His mouth twitched with amusement, though he didn't look back. "You misunderstand, Podunk. It's not a murder thing, it's a cleanliness thing. We foxes keep our bloodlust very tidy. It'd be like leaving uneaten lettuce all around... where-ever it is bunnies live."

"Yeah, you've obviously never been a rabbit home. We don't leave anything uneaten."

"Of course." He stood, heading for the door. "Well, good night. Sleep well, you goddamn lunatic."

"You too!" chirped Judy. "And thanks again for all your help."

"Mmh." His hand rested on the doorknob. "We're even now, alright? This is the end of it."

"Sure thing, Nick," she said. "Whatever you say."


	2. In The Red

It was not the end of it.

Not for Judy Hopps, not for Dawn Bellwether, and not for Nick Wilde, who woke at the usual time despite the pointedly unusual night he just had.

He lay in bed for a few moments, not quite awake. Decent night of sleep. No nightmares this time. None bad enough to remember, anyway. The only dream he could recall was that bizarre one where that bunny he met a few weeks back was dressed up like a...

Wait.

Nick broke into a smirk.

He didn't hurry. He threw on his clothes at a leisurely pace, buttoning his shirt as he descended the stairs.

He closed in on the living room. "Rise and shine, meter maid! You've officially overstayed your welcome! I–"

He rounded the corner and saw the couch was empty.

Judy was true to her word; she was nowhere in sight. More than that, her sheets were neatly folded. The pillow was resting on top of them, and resting atop the pillow was a scrap of paper. There was a short message which ended with a phone number, presumably hers. Nick picked up the note, squinting at the neat blue handwriting.

 _Nick,  
Thank you so much for your help and hospitality. If you ever wan_ _ **-**_ **[a scribble]**  
 _need to contact me, don't hesitate to call.  
I made myself a slice of toast. Sorry for not asking but I didn't want to wake you.  
I left a dollar next to the toaster.  
Judy  
_  
"This is the woman who saved your life last night, Wilde," Nick murmured to himself. "The terror of Zootopia's criminal underworld..."

He let the note flutter back down to the pillow. For a moment he just stood there, thinking. He had been lucky to have her on his side last night; hugely lucky. Maybe luckier than he had the right to be. But he didn't feel... impressed. Especially not now, in the stark light of morning, when the whole thing seemed even more unreal.

It was stupid. She was stupid. He was right to think so.

But part of him wondered – shouldn't he feel... grateful?

Why didn't he?

He was jostled out of his reverie by a buzzing in his pocket; text message. He took out his cell phone and blinked at the number. His thumbs moved quickly, unlocking the screen and tapping the message alert.

 _Bnm_

Nick's mouth tightened. With two hurried taps, he called the number. He pressed his phone to his ear, half-sitting on the side of the couch.

By the third ring he was getting anxious. But then the call went through.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he said. "It's me."

"Oh, Nicky! How nice of you to call. It's so good to hear from you."

Nick felt himself relax a little. "Thanks. Is everything okay?"

"I'm doing just fine. Can't complain, you know."

"Yeah." He paused. "You... texted me?"

Her turn to pause. "I did?"

"Yeah, you did," said Nick. Mild exasperation began to creep in. That was good. It was a lot better than what he had been feeling a moment ago.

"I didn't intend to. What did it say?"

"Just... random letters. B-N-M." He coughed. "I was a little worried you were in trouble, or something."

She laughed softly. "I'm very sorry! I must have done something accidentally. I certainly didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine," he said. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"You're sweet to be so worried about your mother. But rest assured, I'm fine."

"Good, good!" He tapped his foot off the couch. "So... how was your day...?"

"Quite nice. Especially now that I'm talking to my elusive son." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I don't have much to tell. I'm just sitting in bed, reading." A lull as she suppressed a yawn. "It seems I've found a page turner! I must have I lost track of time. I'm not usually awake at this hour... I don't know how I missed the sun rising."

Nick relaxed into a more comfortable position. "Well, that's one of the benefits of retirement, surely. You can read for as long as you want. You earned it."

"Very true. Still, it's important to stick to a clear sleep schedule."

Nick's eyes wandered to the sheets next to him. " _No kidding_ ," he thought to himself.

"Speaking of," she continued, "I suppose you're just getting up."

"Yeah, that's right. I'm about to have breakfast."

"Yes, of course. How are things going? Do you have any news?"

Nick was still looking at the other items on the couch; the sheets, the pillow. The note.

The first-aid kit.

"No, not really," he said. "You know how it is."

"If you say so, Nicky. Are you spending the day... working?"

"Uh, yeah." Nick wished he could sound a little more confident. He _was_ working. It _was_ work. "I have a sneaking suspicion my assistant will be feeling under the weather, but... yeah."

"I see. Well, don't let me detain you. I'll let you get your breakfast."

"Okay." He shifted. "Uh... sorry to bother you."

"Nicky!" she laughed. "You're not bothering me. It's an absolute pleasure to hear from you! Don't be a stranger, alright? In fact, we should have dinner soon." She chuckled slightly. "Well, let's not bogged down with labels. Perhaps a late dinner for me and an early breakfast for you. How does that sound? If you're not too cool to visit your mom, that is."

"You vastly overestimate how cool I am," said Nick, smirking. "I'd like that. We'll arrange something later."

"Splendid! I'll talk to you soon, then."

"Yeah. Talk soon."

"Goodbye, dear!"

The line clicked, and Nick sank back into the couch. He let out a sigh, ears flat.

He was a little paranoid when it came to... well, everything, frankly. But his mother's well-being was an especially worrisome prospect. It wasn't helped by how rarely he saw her these days. She was a more traditional fox, living and working at night and sleeping through the day. Nick had switched sleeping cycles a long time ago. Daylight hours were much more lucrative.

Making a mental note to arrange that visit for quote unquote dinner, Nick stood and headed to the kitchen. For now, he had to start on breakfast. He spotted the promised dollar on the counter and immediately pocketed it. It was laughable, but it was cash.

One hundred and ninety nine to go.

He was halfway through his first slice of toast when his cell phone rang. He took it out quickly, but on seeing the number he answered it with a smirk. "Well, good morning."

"Yeah, yeah," croaked Finnick. "I'm just calling to let you know I'll be late getting to your place. Only just woke up."

"My, my." With his free hand, Nick played with the jar of blueberry jam on the table. "Party a little too hard last night?"

"Something like that."

"Well, too bad," said Nick. "I don't care how bad your headache is. I guarantee my night was weirder than yours, and I need to tell somebody about it."

The phone crackled as Finnick sighed.

* * *

Often, Nick's scams allowed for slow mornings; the day he met Judy, the meat of the con began at noon. Unfortunately for Finnick, today's plan necessitated an early start. On the bright side, there was no need to dress as a baby. So that was nice.

Much of the cargo which moved through the Rainforest District was transported by red blimps; small and slow, but easily capable of the vertical movement the jungle demanded. One of the older models was being decommissioned and disassembled that morning. Nicholas P. Wilde held an official license to collect that blimp's discarded envelope – reams and reams of red fabric – and take it away to be recycled.

Technically speaking, cutting it into pieces and stencilling on a decal of the city skyline captioned 'I ❤ ZOOTOPIA' in order to sell novelty scarves to unsuspecting tourists just about qualified as 'recycling'.

The work was intensive. Nick related what happened to him the previous night in fragments, whenever there was a lull. There wasn't really that much to tell, but Nick only finished the story during their lunch break. They were sitting at the docks on the southwest corner of Savannah Square, eating from greasy paper bags from an old-style fish and chips place. Finnick had fish. Nick had chips.

Nick's natural flair for storytelling made the whole encounter seem even stranger than it actually had been. At points he was worried Finnick would think the whole thing was a weird, elaborate joke. But his business partner was the stoic type. He was ultimately more bemused than shocked.

"Huh. Wouldn'ta pegged her as crazy. At least not _that_ crazy. When we met her, she just seemed a little dense."

"Stupidity and insanity are more of a continuum than two separate concepts," muttered Nick acidly. "Maybe she's not 'crazy', just phenomenally dumb."

"Yeah. Maybe."

There was a pause for a moment. They ate in silence, watching the harbour. A smaller boat was struggling to navigate around the huge ships surrounding it.

Nick shifted, making the rickety wooden bench they were sitting on creak in protest. "I really don't get her. If she was trying to solve that big case she got fired over, sure. That's still dumb, but it's understandable. But she can't solve it. Probably because the whole ZPD obviously can't solve it. So instead, she's just kind of... doing whatever."

"Yeah. 'Doing whatever'. Like saving your life."

"Hey, I dunno about that," said Nick defensively. "I'll admit she helped me, but 'saved my life' is a bit much. They might not have killed me."

Finnick looked unimpressed.

"What?!" said Nick. "We don't know!"

"Whatever." Finnick bit into his fish. "Think you'll see her again?"

"I tend to run into everyone eventually," said Nick. "But I don't know. It depends on how long it takes before she..."

"...Before what?"

"Before she gets herself killed," said Nick. His eyes were on the water. The sea air was salty, bracing. "She's not going to last out there. She's... not bad at it, sure. She's fast. Tougher than she looks. Easy to underestimate, which is definitely to her advantage. But none of that is enough. It just takes one slip-up, one unlucky night, and..." Nick underlined his point by biting forcefully down on a chip. "What I'm saying is, there's a reason no-one does this," he said, chewing.

"Yeah," said Finnick. "Sounds about right."

"...You're very neutral on this, aren't you?"

"I don't care about most things," said Finnick.

"Hard to blame you," Nick muttered.

"I _do_ care about getting paid, though. So what's the plan for the rest of the day? What next?"

"Good point. We've still got a lot of merch to move." Nick threw a few more chips into his mouth, thinking as he ate. "Let's switch location, anyway. Don't think we're gonna get much more out of Savannah Central."

"Lotta tourists in Tundra Town this time of year," said Finnick. "We could probably make some good cash around... Bering Plaza, maybe?"

Nick grimaced.

"What?!" snapped Finnick. "How come my ideas are never good enough for you?!"

"It's not that. It's just, uh..." Nick fiddled with his shirt collar. "I hear a lot of the businesses there changed management recently."

"So?"

"That area," Nick mumbled into a chip, "is now part of Mr Big's territory."

Finnick stared. Then he slammed a paw into his forehead. "Great. Fan-frickin-tastic. How many blocks is that? Just, gone!"

"Hey, I..."

"For someone who thinks he's _so_ smart, you really are a jackass. And you dragged me down with you! I gotta watch my back whenever I'm in TT. It's a quarter of the damn city."

"Mr Big only controls half of it," said Nick breezily.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?! That's still one eighth! And we can't go to any part of it because of you and your terrible ideas."

"It's ridiculous how long he holds a grudge," said Nick vaguely. "You'd think in all the time since then, he'd have made plenty of new enemies."

"Little presumptuous to call yourself his 'enemy'," said Finnick. "That implies you're equal. Not that he could easily kill you. Like it was nothing. Which he can."

"That's all the more reason to just forget about it!" yelled Nick, throwing his arms up. "He should be focusing his time and effort on people who matter. Rivals! Someone who actually poses a threat to him! I shouldn't even be on his radar."

Finnick chewed thoughtfully. "I think the problem there," he said finally, "is that there _ain't_ that many people who pose a threat to him. The cops mostly ignore him these days. None of the other gangs are big enough on their own, and they all hate each other more than him. So he's on top. Hell, he might be starting to get bored. Old grudges with idiots who disrespected him are all he has left."

"It was a tasteful rug," muttered Nick. "It was quality! He wouldn't have bought it if it wasn't! It was just the origin that was... it..." He sighed heavily, his head in his paws. "That stupid rug is gonna kill me, isn't it?"

"Probably," said Finnick placidly. "Just hope I'm not there when it does."

"Oh, thanks. Good to know I can always count on you."

"Don't give me that, Wilde. Law of the jungle. We both know you gotta be smart to survive." He took a bite of fish, talking with his tiny mouth full. "And thas hexactly why no-one's after Mifther Big."

Nick angrily crammed the last of his chips into his mouth. Yes, that was clearly his problem. He was too _smart_. That was why his life was a wreck and nothing ever went right. Because Nick was just too intelligent and prone to survival for his own good. His hand tensed, crumpling the bag. Maybe there were benefits to being a dumb bunny, to have the sheer stupidity necessary to throw yourself into –

Nick's eyes widened.

Finnick knew that look. "Oh god. No."

"Yes." Nick's mouth curled up. "I believe I just had a shiny _new_ terrible idea..."

"I already hate it," said Finnick flatly.

Nick sat up straighter. "Alright. Mr Big's easily one of the most powerful people in the entire city, right? He _has_ to know something about that missing mammal case. Hell, he could be behind it!"

Finnick squinted. "What? Why would he ever do something like that? Kidnapping all those random people would just bring the cops down on him. If it is kidnapping. Might be murder. Same problem," he muttered.

"You're missing the point. It's not about what _actually_ happened. It's about what _might_ have happened. Mr Big might have a hand in this. He might just know something useful. And I doubt an idiot vigilante desperate for leads will need much more than a 'might'."

Finnick rubbed his eyes. "Oh, for the..."

"It's simple. We sic Captain Questionable Life Choices on Mr Big and his operation. If she wins, great! Mr Big goes down, and all we have to do is stay on the good side of whoever takes his place. If she fails..."

"No big loss?" Finnick's eyes narrowed. "That's cold, Wilde."

"Hey, hey!" Nick raised a paw defensively. "You're putting words in my mouth. It's not like I _want_ her to get hurt. But look at it this way; if she keeps this up, that's gonna happen either way eventually. She could at least have the decency to die in a way that benefits us. The little guys."

"Mmh."

"I'll drop her a text. We can meet her once we're done with work." Nick began to crumple his bag into a greasy ball. He smirked. "Yeah. I got a good feeling about this."

He aimed at a nearby trashcan and gracefully fired the crumpled bag towards it.

He missed.

* * *

It was sunset. Nick and Finnick were leaning against the van, parked under a bridge on Wall Street. The huge border between Tundra Town and Savannah Square was just to their south. This was where the districts met, and where Nick had told Hopps he wanted to meet. The dying light of the sun looked starker in Tundra Town. Sunlight was less warm here.

Finnick adjusted his sunglasses. "...Still think this is a bad idea."

"Yeah. I know."

"I mean, _you_ can do what you want. Not my problem. But I don't see why I have to be here."

"Because," said Nick calmly, "I need a driver for this plan to work, and if this plan doesn't work I might die violently, and it's hard finding a new employer in this economy."

"Buy your own damn car, Nick."

"No."

They only had to wait a few more minutes. One moment, they were alone; the next, a red blur fell upon them from the bridge above, dramatically sliding down an icy street-light to ground level. She landed in the snow and unfurled with a hop.

Just as she had threatened, Judy had upgraded.

Her neoprene suit was now a bright red. The original chest piece, belt and wristguards from her uniform were still there and still black, standing out starkly against the new colour.

The main change, however, was the lack of the cloth ski-mask. Now she wore a motorcycle helmet, the hard plastic the same colour as her suit. The visor was black, reflecting the light of the setting sun dramatically.

Her ears still stuck out the top.

Nick forced himself to smile. "Heyyyy, Podunk. You're looking... vibrant!"

Judy flicked her visor up, revealing two shining purple eyes. "Isn't it neat? I found a speciality store for motorbikes that had all kinds of stuff – including bunny helmets!" She rapped a knuckle against the side of her head. "It's designed to weather high-speed impacts, so it should work great in a fight!"

"Uh... huh." Nick gestured to the smaller fox. "Podunk, you remember Finnick, my fake son."

Judy waved, though the motion was guarded. "Hello."

"'Sup," said Finnick.

"Great!" said Nick, clapping his hands together. "Introductions over. Let's get down to business. Those bears you fought last night – do you know who they work for?"

"Uh, yes." Judy was a little thrown by the sudden shift, but she recovered. "They're both members of Mr Big's gang. He's a crime boss based in Tundra Town, probably the most powerful one in the city." She put her hands on her hips authoritatively. "I've been researching local persons of interest ever since I started my... new line of work."

" _Really seems like something you should have known as a cop,_ " thought Nick. He did not say it out loud. Instead, he affected an air of mock shame. "Now, I hope you don't judge me too harshly for this – I would hate to jeopardise our friendship – but as it happens I used to know Mr Big pretty well."

Judy's gaze turned icy.

"Hey, don't give me that look!" said Nick, abandoning the joke. "It's not a euphemism or anything. I literally knew him, like, socially. I was never an actual member of his mob."

Judy's eyes narrowed.

"I wasn't! I'm just a small-time hustler!" Nick nudged Finnick. "Back me up here."

"Yep," said Finnick. "Small-time. Completely insignificant. Nobody'd ever ask him to join a gang. He ain't useful enough."

Nick buried his face in his hands. "This is not how I saw this going."

"He's not a murderer, if that's what you're worried about," continued Finnick. "He doesn't have the guts."

"Yeah. Great." Judy's foot had started to tap impatiently in the snow. "Look, Slick, I know you don't have a high opinion of what I do, but there's _definitely_ somebody I could be helping right now instead of wasting my time here. So if you have something to tell me –"

"I do!" he said quickly. He drew himself up in an attempt to scrounge back some decorum. "Your Random Acts of Violent Kindness thing is pretty useful. I'm in no position to say it isn't. But that's really just a side project, isn't it? Something to do while you try and fail to solve the real problem: the missing mammals."

Judy's expression shifted. "What...?"

"I've been thinking since last night. The way I see it, Mr Big definitely knows something worthwhile..." His tone darkened. "If he isn't the one _behind_ it."

"You think he might be the one doing this?!" said Judy, eyes wide.

Nick shrugged blandly. "It's a possibility. How many missing mammals did you say there were now? Whoever's taking them needs to be putting them somewhere. Somewhere big, and somewhere secret. That's hard to do. But he could pull it off."

Judy rested the chin of her helmet on her fist, thoughtful. "I _did_ think that whoever was doing it – assuming it was deliberate act by a person, or persons, which of course is the most likely scenario – would need considerable resources. And that narrows things down a lot." She scoffed, shifting her weight at the hips. "I mean, it's not like City Hall is kidnapping these people."

"Sure," said Nick. "So, are you interested in investigating Mr Big?"

"Definitely. Even if he has nothing to do with the case, he's still a powerful criminal. Stopping him would be my pleasure." She menacingly cracked her tiny, adorable knuckles. "Is that it? You brought me out here to give me a tip-off? You could've just texted."

Nick laughed. "Oh, please. Give me some credit. Pointing you in the right direction is one thing, but like I said, I used to be tight with his family. I can get you inside his _house_."

"Really?"

"Really." He smirked. "I wanna give you the opportunity to... make a good first impression."

Judy folded her arms. "Now hold on. You gave me a long spiel last night about how much you hate helping people. Why the change of heart?"

"Honestly, Podunk?" said Nick. "Because I want Mr Big gone. He has it out for me. If you take him down, well, my life will get a whole lot easier."

Judy nodded slowly. "I see. Well... thank you for being honest."

"Of course." He gave her a gentle smile. "We're in this together, right? I'm glad you trust me."

Finnick found himself repressing a shudder.


	3. Red Alert

The van trundled through the dark streets of Tundra Town. It moved at a perfectly reasonable pace, giving the definite impression that none of its occupants were about to undertake a suicide mission to intimidate the single most dangerous member of an organized crime ring in the entire city.

Finnick was driving, his face hard and his eyes on the road. Nick sat next to him, absently chewing at one of his claws. And in the back – almost invisible against a mountain of leftover red fabric – was Judy Hopps.

Nick blinked, realizing something. "Hey, Podunk," he said, pulling his paw away from his mouth. "Quick question."

"What is it, Wilde?" she said, a touch warily.

"Do you have, like... a superhero name?" He craned his neck to address her. "I mean, that's gotta be the first thing you came up with, right?"

She folded her arms. "Don't be ridiculous. My focus is and always has been on helping people. The mask is a necessity, that's all. Something I need to do to get the job done. Giving myself a... a codename would just be... silly."

He slowly broke into a wide grin. "...You can't think of anything good, can you?"

"Shut up, jerkface!" she snapped, which was not a denial.

"Hey, don't worry about it. You've got a point. It's corny to throw your arms in the air and declare 'Behold, citizens! It is I, Captain Carrotcake!'"

Her teeth were grinding. "Stop. Talking."

"Perfectly reasonable to hold back. Build a rep first. I mean, chances are the press will come up with a cool name for you anyway! Lots of underworked arts graduates just dying for an opportunity like that." He nudged Finnick. "Right? Pretty much all newspapers are good for these days."

"I'm staying out of this conversation," said Finnick solidly.

"Fair enough."

They drove on. The van was almost silent; Judy stood just behind the seat, muttering to herself.

Nick's eyes fell on a passing traffic light, and he broke into a smile. "Hey, I got it. How about... the Red Light?"

"Ex _cuse_ me?

"Because you're small and annoying and you stop things." Nick could feel her glare through her visor. It only widened his grin. "What? You said you wanted to stop this whole... conspiracy thing. You're giving it the red light! Also, it's funny because you're a meter maid."

"Wilde," said Judy evenly, "I will give you one last chance to shut your mouth before I rip off your tail and use it to gag you."

He shrugged dramatically. " _Jeez_ , fine. I'm a little disquieted by your violent language. Clearly you've embraced your new life of–"

"Nick," said Finnick, "we're here."

"Hmm? Oh. So we are."

Nick glanced around for a second, then turned in his seat to address Judy. He spoke seriously. For once.

"Alright, listen. We're on his street now. Mr Big's house is the compound at the end." He took out his phone to check the time. "And it's almost nine pm. That's when his outdoor guards change shift, which usually takes a couple minutes. If – _if_ – you can clear the fence and get to a window, you'll be inside without anyone knowing. Then you just need to find the shrew himself. Chances are he'll be in the study on the ground floor."

"Got it." Judy rolled her neck. "What about getting out?"

Nick smirked. "Well, you're the hero. You can figure that out yourself, I'm sure."

"Uh huh." Judy pointed past him, indicating an impressive stone wall the van was closing in on. "Is that it?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

"Great. Scooch over." Judy pulled herself up, balancing on the back of the seat. "And roll the window down."

"What?"

"You heard me! C'mon, hurry up. Finnick, you don't need to slow down. Just keep driving normally."

"If you say so," said the smaller fox dubiously.

Nick opened the window. Cold air and snowflakes rushed in. "Podunk, what exactly are you–"

"Alright this is my stop thanks for the tip-off Nick don't wait up!"

Judy leapt out the window and straight into a lamppost, grabbing it with both arms and spinning around it once, twice, thrice before letting go and landing, crouched, in the soft snow.

Nick stared at her through the rear-view mirror.

Finnick kept driving, as instructed. Only when he reached the end of the street and turned off did he speak. "What the _hell_ just happened?"

"She does that," said Nick weakly.

* * *

Nick had been right.

Judy's new costume was stark against the white snow – but if she was fast and cunning and careful, it didn't matter. She darted from shadow to shadow, low to the ground, and before long she came to the house.

No guards. Not yet.

She came to a opened window on the side of the house. She hopped up to the ledge and – after awkwardly squeezing her helmet through – slipped inside. She wondered why such a small mammal would live in a house seemingly designed for someone much larger.

Probably the same reason he had adopted the frankly ludicrous moniker of 'Mr Big'.

Judy found herself in an ornate hallway, decorated with rugs and paintings and busts. Still no-one in sight. She had to press ahead while her luck held.

Nick seemed to know what he was talking about, so she decided to check the study first. Part of her hoped Big wouldn't be there, though. She had a vague plan of breaking into his bedroom and waking him up, looming over his bed threateningly to get him to talk. Just like a movie scene.

She wasn't about to say it out loud, but lately she was getting a lot of her ideas from movies.

She came to a door that was slightly ajar. Through the gap she saw bookshelves and a desk – and on the desk, a tiny chair, facing the other way.

She smirked.

Creeping quietly forward, she silently pushed the door open and entered.

It slammed shut behind her.

Judy's instincts kicked in and she was moving before she processed the situation. She rolled to the side, dodging the huge white paw that swiped at her.

She picked the wrong direction. She was in a corner now. There were two doors to the study. Two polar bears in suits had been waiting on either side of the one she entered through. Two more entered from the door to her right – two she recognized. Raymond was leaning on one leg and trying not to show it. Kevin was wearing sunglasses despite being indoors. At night.

Four bears. Cornered.

Judy's rational thoughts caught up with her instincts. In an instant, she guessed what had happened. " _He... he set me up. Mr Big probably paid him. And now..._ "

Her stance hardened as she prepared herself, trying to push aside the thoughts that assailed her. " _You idiot. You stupid, delusional carrot farmer. You **knew** he was a con artist, you **knew** you couldn't trust him, but after two conversations you were eating out of his hand! You're gonna die right here like the dumb little bunny you are, and there's no-one to blame but yourself!_ "

Judy took a breath and tried to channel that anger. Anger was reckless and led to mistakes, but it was motivating. She could use it. Turn it outside, onto the bears closing in on her.

But there was something else, too. Running beneath the anger like an underground river. Something that felt disturbingly like betrayal.

" _...Why would he do this? I thought he liked m_ –"

The first bear was upon her.

She jumped backwards into the wall and kicked off and brought her foot down on his muzzle, stunning him. He fell; and the next bear lunged at her, throwing himself forward in a full-body tackle.

Cornered.

There was too much sheer muscle in front of her – no room to dodge, no scope to wiggle free. It only got worse as the other bears closed in as well. Judy thrashed and flailed and yelled her defiance, but it was no use. Soon she was caught. The two unfamiliar bears held her at either side, gripping an arm and leg each in their steely paws. They pulled her from the corner and brought her closer to the desk.

"Careful," said Raymond icily. "She bites."

Judy realized that the helmet, though more protective, left her mouth covered. Probably worth the trade-off. Biting people was terrible. She wasn't sure how often gangsters washed their hands.

A huge polar bear stomped into the room; no doubt Koslov, Mr Big's chief enforcer. And sure enough, standing on the bear's upturned paw – hands folded behind his back, posture impeccable – was a small but dignified figure.

"Good job, boys." His voice held a certain gravitas despite the comically high pitch. Koslov walked him over to his desk – he hopped down, swinging his chair around. "That's enough. I would like a word with her."

Judy growled, squirming in the bears' grip. No use.

Big settled into his seat. "I hope we did not give you too much of a fright. I merely wished to be prepared. You see, I was quite sure you would try to come here eventually, Miss Hopps."

Judy tensed. "What?! What are you–"

"Spare me," he said with a wave of his tiny hand. "I'm in no mood for childish games."

Judy tried to keep her tone icy. "...What gave me away?"

"Simple deductive reasoning," said Big flatly. "Tell me, are you familiar with William of Oxham?"

Judy just glared.

"I thought not," sniffed Big, "but perhaps you have heard the term 'Oxham's Razor'. The simplest solution is usually the correct one. When my boys come to me about a costumed freak giving them trouble – that is, after they finally work up the nerve to admit they were beaten up by a little bunny rabbit – I see two possibilities. Either there was _another_ rabbit with basic combat training, access to weaponry, and some kind of death wish..." He steepled his tiny fingers. "Or it was you. The meter maid who got fired a few weeks back."

She had assumed he was just going to say that Nick had revealed her name as part of betraying her. Either Mr Big was lying – for some reason – or Nick hadn't sold her out after all. She tried to file that information away as stoically as possible.

For the moment Judy kept talking, in the vain hope that an amazing plan would form itself in her head in the next six seconds. "So, what you're saying is, it was a lucky guess."

"An educated guess," he corrected. "Oxham's Razor is rarely wrong."

"Well, thanks for the lesson, Professor."

Mr Big gestured vaguely toward one of his bookshelves. "I find an elementary grounding in philosophy reaps dividends in the modern world of... business." He took out a tiny silver case and produced a tiny cigar. "Speaking of. Let's discuss why exactly you're here."

"You _know_ why I'm here!" Actually, Judy had begun to seriously doubt that, but she was angry. She ran with it. "You're going to tell me everything you know about the mammals who went missing!"

Mr Big's bushy eyebrows raised a fraction. "...That's it?"

"Yes!"

He watched her for a moment, stroking the fur on his chin. "Interesting. Very well."

Judy blinked under her visor. "What?"

"I will honour your request. Here is what I know." Mr Big threw his tiny arms up with a sudden, violent motion. " _Nothing!_ "

"You expect me to buy that?"

"Yes. Because it's the truth." Big shifted in his chair, his cigar spluttering ash. "Believe me, I am as desperate for answers as you. I am a mammal of many connections, and this... affair... has affected me personally. My florist disappeared some time ago. He wanted to meet me – I suspect he knew something important. But he never arrived. And worse, the driver I sent to collect him – a man I have trusted for years – vanished soon after! Here I am, left with no information on either. Nothing except a horror story my driver told me before his disappearance... He claimed Otterton went savage..."

"O-Otterton?" In her surprise, Judy almost missed the last two words. "Emmitt Otteron? _He's_ your florist?!"

"Mmh." Mr Big looked off to the side, as though losing interest.

"I'm looking for him! I have been for weeks! His wife is the one who..." She paused. "Wait. 'Went savage'?"

"That's what I said. Otterton attacked Manchas, then disappeared into the night. Manchas received a nasty scar... and went missing soon after." Big's tone was hard. "I hope I don't need to spell out the implications."

Judy felt a chill run down her spine. "It could be contagious. A pathogen, driving predators mad...!"

"Yes. It's possible." He sucked on his cigar pensively. "And troubling. This has the trappings of a serious crisis. I have responsibilities to this city. People who look to me for guidance, protection."

"Yeah, right!" spat Judy. "You're a real pillar of the community."

"Contrary to what you may believe, _ex_ -Officer Hopps, a mammal such as myself is necessary for a city like this. I fulfil roles City Hall and the ZPD are unwilling to. How do you think Little Rodentia remains peaceful when _you're_ the smallest police officer on record?" He watched her carefully. "In fact, considering how I will need every advantage I can take to combat this, I would have considered hiring you."

"What? Really?" Judy twisted her limbs. The bears held her tighter.

"Absolutely. You're clearly a talented individual. Driven." His tone darkened. "But unfortunately, I have a reputation to maintain. I cannot allow anyone to attempt to threaten me, to break into my _home_ , without reprimand. I'm afraid an alliance is off the table. You understand." He took a brief pull on his tiny, tiny cigar. "...Kill her."

* * *

"She's probably fine," said Nick distantly.

"Yeah. I heard you the first five times," muttered Finnick.

Nick went to say something else, but stopped himself. Finnick was right. He was acting weird.

Now all he had to do was work out why.

Nick admitted – privately, internally – that this latest plan was... what was a good way of putting it? A departure from his usual fare, given that it was significantly above average in terms of being... well...

Evil.

" _No,_ " Nick told himself firmly. " _'Evil' is setting up a bad guy to kill a good guy. Setting up a good guy to fight a bad guy is the opposite of evil! I'm a hero!_ "

It didn't sound convincing. He knew why.

Judy wasn't going to win.

Nothing short of an army could oust Mr Big from his current position. And while Hopps might _consider_ herself a one rabbit army, Nick knew that wasn't going to be enough. It never would be.

His face twisted in frustration. He pushed those thoughts to the side. What was done was done. Besides, he hadn't been lying to Finnick. Hopps was going to bite it sooner or later, and all signs pointed to 'sooner'. It wasn't morally wrong to point her towards Big. Not hugely, anyway. The only morally _right_ thing to do would be to hold her down and call a psychiatric hospital, and he didn't have the upper body strength for that. He was blameless.

So what was with this terrible knot in his gut?

He was grateful for the distraction when his phone buzzed. He took it out and flicked open the text he had received.

 _Hello dear! Hope this doesn't wake you, just asking before I forget. Would Saturday morning suit you? Let me know when you can_

Nick looked at his phone, impassive.

Finnick raised an eyebrow, his eyes on the road. "Who's that?"

"Sidekick Rental," said Nick immediately. "Been trying to trade you in for a better model for months. Lucky for you, their customer service is lousy."

Finnick glared. "Keep up that lip and I'll side–kick you in the damn jaw."

"Big talk, little man."

At this point, the banter was instinctive; reactionary, like a muscle reflex. Nick wasn't focused on what he was saying. His mind was elsewhere.

His phone felt heavy in his hand.

After a moment he closed his eyes, wincing as though in physical pain. "We... should go back."

" _What?_ Why?"

"I..." Nick pressed his palm against his forehead. "I miscalculated. This isn't the best way forward. We should've went slower, built up to this. All this is going to achieve is–"

"One dead rabbit." Nick shot Finnick a venomous glare, but the smaller fox just shrugged. "Hey, like you said. No big loss, right?"

"I never _said_ that!"

"Seems like you were thinking it. You made your decision, Nick. It's too late."

Nick took a slow breath. "Finnick. Please. Turn around."

There was icy silence in the van. Part of Nick wondered if it was warmer outside.

Then Finnick growled and pulled the van into a violent U-turn.

Nick sank back into his seat. "Thank you."

"Nick." Finnick's voice was curt, clipped. Noticeably different from his usual brash anger. "I'm not doing this again."

"Of course."

"I mean it. Next time you _'miscalculate'_ , you fix it by your damn self. Got it?"

"I got it. Sure. Thanks."

Nick's eyes wandered out the window – then he remembered his phone. He tapped out a quick reply.

 _I'm still awake, as it happens! Saturday sounds great. See you then Mom ^w^_

Finnick glowered over the steering wheel into the night. "I knew you didn't have the guts."

* * *

Under the rug had been a trapdoor and the trapdoor led to a rushing torrent of icewater and Judy was, at present, dangling over same. Raymond held her by the back collar of her uniform. He had asked for the honour.

"Again, I apologize that it has to be this way," said Mr Big, "but you made your decision. Do you have any last words?"

Her body was tense. Ready. "You'll pay for this, you monster!"

He shrugged. "I've heard better."

Raymond dropped her.

A mistake. Should've knocked her out, first.

Judy angled herself toward the corner of the trapdoor and threw out both hands, pressing against two icy walls. She still slid downwards – too fast, too slippery – but all she needed was the second to recover, to pull her legs up, to kick out.

She sprang up, kicking against the ice and back up to the trapdoor. She slammed her hands into the floorboards and gave herself just enough upward momentum to pull herself up.

Out of the ice tray, into the freezer.

Raymond roared and went to kick her with his good leg. Too slow. Judy dodged past his foot and jabbed at the knee she had tasered the night before. He gasped in pain, and satisfied it was still weak, Judy threw her whole weight against it. He fell.

Three left.

Kevin was closing in on her. Judy unclipped her taser and brandished it. He stopped short, fully aware of how dangerous it could be. Judy smirked under her helmet.

Her smirk died as a meaty foot swung in from the side and knocked it from her hand.

She recovered quickly, grabbing the third bear's foot and twisting his ankle and forcing him to slip. He fell into the trapdoor – too large to fit through, he instead got awkwardly caught. That was two. She went to reclaim her taser but Kevin blocked her way, and Raymond was already getting to her feet, and a rush of air behind her –

She darted to the side, dodging the fourth bear's fist. She broke into a sprint, lapping the room and trying to keep track of her foes.

Mr Big grunted in mild interest. "I suppose they weren't exaggerating. She's quite animated." He turned to Koslov, his tiny chair squeaking. "Perhaps you would do us all a favour and put an end to this? Quickly."

Koslov rolled his eyes, pulled out a pistol, and fired.


	4. Red Herring

Many bullets travel at supersonic speed. A victim of a shooting, depending on where they are hit, may never hear the gunshot that kills them. The bullet arrives before the sound.

As it happens, the Yakarov pistol Boris Koslov favoured did not fire at a supersonic rate. Bullets left the muzzle at a comparatively lackadaisical three hundred and fifteen meters per second, just short of the speed of sound. Practically an amble.

While the sound of the gunshot was technically faster than the bullet, the small distance covered rendered the difference negligible. Judy's brain still needed a few precious milliseconds to actually process the noise.

She felt the bullet before she heard it.

One second she was staring down Kevin, trying to divine his movements from his body language. The next, a searing pain blossomed from her ear. The right. On the inner edge. High. Near the tip.

The pain hit her full force, overwhelming her. Rational thought shattered instantly. Two different sets of instincts rushed to fill the void. The rabbit wanted to scream, curl up, cry. Beg for mercy.

The cop won.

Her scream suppressed to a pained choke, Judy forced herself to move. The first door was closed. They left the second open. Escape route. Move. Keep moving. Survive.

Mr Big watched Judy bolt from the study. "Your aim is getting sloppy, Koslov. You barely grazed her." He grunted. "Alright, boys, don't just stand there. The sooner we dump her body in the river, the sooner we get back to poker night. Chop chop. She's tracking blood on the carpet..."

Judy sprinted through the mansion. The pain was terrible, and every second it got worse. She used that. It kept her focused.

Keep moving.

She mentally ran through her options, her brain moving even faster than her burning legs. Get to a window and run? No. Guns. Can't outrun a bullet. Hide? Tracking blood. Their territory. No hiding place they wouldn't know. Fight? Hadn't worked so far.

She paused in a hallway, trying to pick a direction. Her ears perked at a sound – both ears. New twinge of agony.

"Did someone fire a gun?!"

A voice down the hall. Room with an open door. Female, youngish. Sounded distressed. Civilian? Family member?

Judy's breakneck thoughts provided a new descriptor.

 _Hostage_.

She baulked at herself. Had she honestly just considered that? It was fast, and panicked, but it definitely happened. She couldn't ignore it. What was _wrong_ with her? That was completely deplorable. What happened to the innocent farmgirl who wanted to make the world a better place? Her moral–

There were massive footsteps behind her and Judy burst back into a sprint, eyes on the door.

She'd feel bad later. If she survived.

Keep moving.

Judy slid into the room and slammed the door shut. There was a chair next to the door and she hooked it under the doorknob, jamming it. She'd need the time.

She turned around. She was in a library – the walls were lined with beautiful bookshelves, even more than Big's study. There was a table in the centre of the room. On the table were two miniature armchairs. On one of the armchairs was an arctic shrew, a glossy magazine in her hands. She stared at Judy, eyes wide.

The hair was unmistakable.

Fru-Fru's voice shook. "Look, I don't know where Daddy keeps anything. I just live here. Please, I–"

"Wait, wait, no!" Judy didn't think she was capable of taking this woman – anyone? – hostage. Mercifully, she saw another way forward. She flicked up her visor, hoping her eyes didn't look too desperate. "Do you remember me? A few weeks ago, Little Rodentia?"

Fru-Fru's brow furrowed for a second. Then the realization clicked. "Oh my gawd. The bunny cop? With the doughnut?"

"Yeah! That's me!"

"Oh my **gawd!** I can't be _lieve_ –" Her eyes caught on the sizeable notch near the tip of Judy's ear, and she gasped. "Oh! You poor thing, you're bleeding!"

Judy's tone turned terse. "My own fault. I should've been prepared for guns. I wasn't."

"So that was a gun? Oh, no..." Fru-Fru's hands twisted her magazine. "You must be in _big_ trouble if they took out guns. Daddy hates using them inside the house. Ruined a beautiful painting of Grandpappy once."

The doorknob twitched, stuck on the chair. A heavy pounding reverberated from the other side. "Who's in there?"

Before Judy could react, Fru-Fru raised her voice. "Just me, boys!"

"Miss, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She effected an irritated tone. "I'm _trying_ to read!"

"I'm sorry, but we're looking for someone. Can you let us in?"

"Hold on!" Fru-Fru dropped her voice to a whisper. "Listen, see that red book over there? Pull it."

Judy nodded, moving to the bookcase Fru-Fru indicated. When she pulled the book back, the entire bookshelf swung on a hinge, revealing a dark tunnel.

"That leads right outside. You run and keep running, okay? Don't slow down."

Judy blinked. "I... Thank you so much," she whispered.

The doorknob rattled. "Miss? Is there something wrong with the door?"

Another voice outside. "Hey, look! The blood leads right in here!"

"Yeah!" The entire door shook. "Open up, now!"

"You should go!" Fru-Fru frowned uncertainly. "Look, I try to keep my nose out of the family business, but... I'll talk to Daddy. I'm sure he wouldn't wanna hurt you if he knew what you did for me."

"That's good of you, but you've done enough. Don't go out of your way for me." She looked Fru-Fru in the eye. "Thank you."

"Hey, I'm just repaying the favour." The door buckled, and Fru-Fru waved her on. "Go! Gogogo, get outta here!"

Judy nodded. She flicked her visor back down.

She ran.

* * *

The tunnel was longer than she expected. And dark. Completely dark. Judy was alone with her pain.

Mr Big had revealed a few fragments of information, assuming he hadn't been lying through his teeth. That was all she had.

Now she was in the cross-hairs of the most dangerous criminal in the city.

And she had a goddamn hole in one ear.

She lost track of time, running almost robotically. Eventually the light of the exit materialised. Judy ran from the tunnel almost blindly. She didn't realize it opened directly onto the road until two headlights were suddenly bearing down on her.

She had a second to react. Keeping low, she threw herself forward onto the icy pavement, painfully sliding out of the van's path.

The van lurched to a stop and the passenger door opened and Nick Wilde leaned out. "Hopps! You're okay! C'mon, we need to get out of here."

Judy looked up – and her hands clenched into fists. "You! How **dare** you–"

Nick hurriedly waved his hand. "Yell at me inside the van, please!"

Judy let out a noise halfway between a sigh and a snarl and hopped up. Finnick was driving before she closed the door.

Nick turned to Finnick. "We need to lay low. Red Herring?"

"Red Herring," said Finnick resignedly.

"Great. Don't worry, Podunk, soon you'll be–" He turned to Judy as she balled her shaking hand into a fist and punched him in the nose.

Nick recoiled. For a second he sat there, blinking in shock. It wasn't a full-force blow, but she had struck with vicious purpose. His sensitive nose twitched in pain.

He stared. "You... You hit me!"

Judy growled. The sound was almost feral. She grabbed him roughly by his shirt and yanked him closer. Nick saw his fearful green eyes stare back at him from her visor. " _You_ led me right into a **trap!** So you're lucky I don't break both your thumbs, you mangy little–!"

"Whoa whoa _whoa_ , Hopps, please, slow down!" Nick often had to beg, but usually with animals far larger and pointier than himself. Pleading mercy from a rabbit was new. "What are you talking about? What trap?"

"They were _waiting_ for me in that study you oh-so-casually suggested I check out. All of them! Mr Big and five of his bears, at least one of whom, might I add, was armed with a deadly weapon!" Her tone turned cold. "But I'm sure you don't know anything about that, huh?"

"No! Of course not!" He winced. "I mean, full disclosure, I knew it was gonna be dangerous. But I genuinely thought you'd have the element of surprise! Honest!" He craned his neck back, waving desperately to Finnick. "Right, buddy? Tell her!"

"I'm staying out of this conversation too," said Finnick. He was suppressing a smile.

"This isn't a _conversation_ , it's two seconds away from aggravated assault!"

He turned back to Judy, soulfully looking into his best guess of where her eyes were. The visor was messing up his game.

"Hopps, please. I... I have nothing to gain from you getting hurt. Really. Whatever happened in there, I didn't... It wasn't _me_ , but... I'm sorry." He swallowed. His mouth was dry. "I mean it. I'm sorry. And I'm so glad you're okay."

She stared him down for a moment, ears tall and quivering angrily. Then she shoved him back, releasing his shirt. "Move over," she said brusquely.

Nick complied, shuffling back closer to Finnick. Judy sat by the door, glaring out the window.

After a moment she mumbled "...Sorry for hitting you."

"It's cool," said Nick quickly. "It's cool. We're cool."

Silence set in. It was crushing. Nick drummed his fingers against his knee. He glanced to Finnick, but the smaller fox was stoic. He was always good at getting through moments like this. While Nick relied on charming his way through awkward situations, Finnick's foolproof strategy was to sit quietly and not care.

Nick finally forced himself to look back to Judy. He noticed the way she was gingerly touching one ear. "Hey, you alright?"

She didn't look up. "Shut up."

Nick had dimly realized something was wrong earlier, but until now her anger kept him distracted. He squinted, leaning closer to get a better view. Even his sharp eyes had difficulty seeing red against red, but he caught a familiar scent. "Oh my god, you're bleeding!"

Her tone was icy, edged with barely contained rage. "Yes. I am. Because of you."

"That... that looks bad..." Nick fumbled for his pocket. He produced a red handkerchief, adorned with simple black designs and pine trees in the corners. He leaned over to her. "Here, let me–"

She snatched it out of his hand and wrapped it around her ear, forming a tight tourniquet. "Back off. I can handle it myself."

"But I can–"

Judy's voice was venom. " _You've_ done enough."

Nick thought better of replying. He bit back the retort that sprang automatically to the tip of his tongue. Instead, he dragged his eyes away from her and watched the road.

They drove in silence.

* * *

Nick was a careful mammal. It was an important trait to have in his line of work, and a major reason he had never been found one morning face down in a river.

Yet.

Most of that carefulness was a matter of avoiding trouble in the first place, but an important aspect was having a plan for when something did, inevitably, go wrong. For Nick, that was the Red Herring.

It was in the southeast of Tundra Town, on Damoclaws Dock. There was a ferry there that operated through the night, transporting passengers to Outback Island. It was a natural choice for a fox on the run; which is why Nick's plan was to head to the docks, then slip into an abandoned fish warehouse a few blocks over. A pursuer would investigate the ferry instead, and eventually leave. Often it didn't even come to that. Just having a vigorously fixed destination to flee to in event of an emergency was sufficient.

Finnick parked the van and the three piled out into the warehouse. Finnick, well-versed with the routine, climbed up a stack of empty boxes to a high window in order to look out into the night. Nick hesitated, then stepped toward Judy, gently reaching for her crudely-bandaged ear. She slapped his hands away. He retreated.

"Ugh..." Judy took off her helmet and threw it against the floor. It bounced. "Dammit!"

Nick cleared his throat. "I'm... glad you're okay."

Judy said nothing.

Nick frowned, then pressed on. "How did you get out?"

Judy took a steadying breath. "I got out because I saved his daughter. Back when I was a cop." Her brow twitched. "Y'see, Nick, that's how people usually react when I save their life. With gratitude. With help. Not by throwing me into a _deathtrap!_ "

Nick held up both paws defensively. "Okay, okay. You're angry–"

"I'm not angry! I'm _furious!_ "

"–and that's totally, utterly understandable. I'm so sorry you got hurt. I never meant for that to happen."

Judy glared, eyes burning. "Sure. Sure you didn't."

Finnick cleared his throat. "Hey, I think we're okay. Don't see any sign of them."

"Well, that's good," said Nick.

"'Good'?" snapped Judy, as Finnick began hopping down to ground level. "I just threatened the city's most infamous mob boss! He told me he couldn't let me live! And you think just because he hasn't followed us to this... disgusting little shack of yours, you can pass this off as ' _good'?!_ "

"It's better than the alternative, that's for sure," said Nick. "Look, like I said, he has it out for me too. It's not the end of the world. You'll survive."

"Not if I keep listening to you!" She gestured furiously, inelegantly, to her own body. "Was the 'wear red' thing a lie too?! Were you just trying to turn me into a _bullseye?!"_

Finnick walked up, dusting off his shirt. "Try to calm down, rabbit. You're injured. You don't want to make it worse."

Judy turned on him, scowling. "I'm fine. And I don't need any medical advice from a lowlife hustler. What? You working with Wilde to pay your way through med school?"

His brow furrowed. "Hey, take it easy. I'm just saying."

"Well, stick to being quiet," she snapped.

"She's got a point, bud," said Nick, unable to resist. "It suits you better."

Finnick ignored him, his eyes on Judy. "Look, I don't care–"

"That's right, you don't!" yelled Judy, jabbing a finger at him. "And contrary to what you might believe, that doesn't make you cool or intelligent. It makes you a worthless, amoral non-entity! In the words of Edmund Furke, 'the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good mammals to do nothing'."

Finnick's expression darkened. Slightly. "Yeah? Well in the words of my grandma, 'screw you, lady, I'm out'." He stomped towards the door, gesturing vaguely at Nick. "Lemme know if you have a job that actually pays."

"Hey, where are you going?" said Nick. "Aren't you gonna give me a ride home?"

"No," said Finnick, and then he was gone.

"Well, great." Nick turned back to Judy. "Y'know, Finnick may not be the cheeriest guy, but it actually takes a lot to make him leave like that. I know him. You really got under his fur just there."

Judy rolled her eyes. "I don't care if I hurt your friend's feelings. Despite everything, I managed to get some information out of Mr Big. And what I learned is scary. This could be so much worse than I thought."

"Worse than dozens of people disappearing without a trace?"

"Yes! Worse! It's a pathogen, a contagion. Do you know what that means? It's a disease!"

"I knew what both of those words meant, Podunk," he said irritably.

"This could tear the entire city apart, and nobody's prepared. What am I supposed to do...?" Her eyes unfocused. "Mr Big said he would've considered an alliance...

"Rrrrright," said Nick. "And you, being a bright-eyed hick who wants to save the world, would've naturally jumped at the chance to hop into bed with a mob boss."

"Shut up! I... Yeah. If it saved lives, then yes." Her gaze hardened. "But that's off the table. I'll be lucky if he doesn't set his entire organization on me now."

Nick shook his head. "Yeah, no. I've dealt with Mr Big. I don't think working under him would be your best move. Honestly, you might've dodged a bull–"

A terrible pause.

"No," said Judy. "Go on. Finish that sentence."

More silence.

"Really. Go ahead."

"...No," said Nick.

Judy sucked in a long breath through her nose. "I hope you understand what you put me through. I got shot. _Shot_. Because of you."

Nick kept his eyes on the ground.

"God, I hope you're satisfied. What a brilliant plan from master hustler Nick Wilde. I'm disgusted with you."

Nick didn't look up. "Yeah."

"And that's not all! I had to leave my taser in there! I'm not getting that back! I don't have that much stuff here, I can't afford to lose any...!"

Nick felt a flare of anger in his gut and seized it. Anything that wasn't guilt. "Oh, that's a _real_ shame." He jabbed a finger at the small pink bottle still clasped to her belt. "Good thing you still have your fox repellent, huh? Can't go without that little item!"

She blinked. "How did–"

"Come on, Podunk! I was, what, three feet away when you used it the other night? I could smell what it was, genius! It's _fox_ repellent!"

Judy held up her hands defensively. "Okay, look. My dad gave me that stuff. I have nothing against foxes, specifically. Actually, I turned him down at first! I just... asked for it all back when I realized I needed weapons. Turns out it works pretty well at repelling _anybody_ if you shoot it in their eyes."

"Oh, for the love of..." Nick rubbed his eyes. "You're seriously trying claim that you're one hundred percent not biased against foxes despite carrying a supply of fox _repellent_ on your person at all times?"

"Yes! Because it's true!"

"You really have no idea how stupid you sound, do you?"

"Lay off me! I'm just using what works!"

"Just fill a spray bottle with vinegar!"

"Maybe I _will!_ " snapped Judy, her small body brimming with righteous indignation. "It's probably **cheaper!** "

Nick sighed shakily. "Yeah. Sounds about right. Fighting crime on a budget, huh? No wonder you got hurt."

"Oh, shut your mouth," she growled. "First off, it's _your_ fault. Secondly... I just got unlucky. It happens. I can't help that my ears are a big target. If it had hit the helmet..."

Nick scoffed, incredulous. "You're _kidding_ , right?"

"What?"

"I've got news for you, you tiny idiot! Motorcycle helmets aren't bulletproof! You got off light – if it was lower, you'd be **dead!** "

"I – well – you're –" Judy cut angrily through the air with her hands. "Back off! You don't know what you're talking about!"

"No. I do. You don't," snarled Nick. "I'm not out there, trying to... get myself killed! You're the one who has no idea what she's doing."

"Ugh!" Judy rolled her eyes. "I can't believe this... You still treat me like an idiot even though I saved your life!"

"You saved my life," snapped Nick, "because you're _nuts!_ It was a happy accident! Sometimes a vending machine spits out two candy bars when you only paid for one. That doesn't mean it isn't broken!"

Judy didn't reply immediately. She watched him, her chest heaving angrily but her face carefully neutral. "That's... really how you see me. As broken." It wasn't a question. "As a dumb bunny who's too stupid to even realize the danger she's in. I should just go home, huh? Back to the family farm, where it's safe?"

"Yes!" snapped Nick. Then he frowned, bitter. "No. Whatever. Do what you want."

Judy scoffed. "Don't worry. I will. The first thing I want to do is show my ear to an actual doctor. After that, I'm gonna go home, take the day off, and hopefully _never_ see you again."

Nick went to shoot back. Any good will, any guilt, was worn down. He wasn't going to restrain himself. Full force.

Nothing came.

Instead of a sharp, witty rejoinder – something he had come to produce with reliable skill – his brain was just providing a mess of wordless sentiments. The best he could do was growl "Fine by me."

Judy shook her head. "I don't need this. And I certainly don't need you. Finnick's right about one thing, y'know. You are useless." She turned to leave, scooping up her helmet. She made no move to return Nick's handkerchief. "Goodbye, Wilde. Thanks for nothing."

Nick stood in the warehouse, alone with his thoughts. The sound of the door slamming reverberated through the stale air, but soon it faded to nothing. Flecks of dust drifted forlornly through the moonlight. The silence was crushing.

He put his hands on the hips. "Now how the hell am I gonna get home?"


	5. Red Sky In The Morning

It was still not the end of it. Not for Dawn Bellwether, or Chief Bogo, or Leodore Lionheart. Certainly for neither Judy Hopps nor Nick Wilde. But after the disastrous raid on Mr Big's home, the two went their separate ways.

As Judy had said in the warehouse, her first move was to seek proper medical attention for her ear. But as soon as she had left the Red Herring, she began to worry about the logistics. Turning to a doctor could jeopardise her secret identity – but that was a risk she was forced to accept. She was bleeding. There wasn't room to negotiate with an open wound.

From the docks, she had headed south. She was soon admitted to the emergency room at St Bernard's Medical Centre, the largest hospital in Tundra Town. Even this late at night, she had to wait for treatment. Of course, the dead of night was just a different rush hour in Zootopia. The medical staff on call were all nocturnal mammals, thriving on the night shift. The hedgehog nurse who eventually attended to her was fairly bright and chatty.

Judy was lucky the bullet had struck the side of her ear – she was able to pass it off as an accident. She claimed that she fell off her motorcycle and against a metal fence, a lie made more plausible by her motorcycle gear. That neatly covered for the fact she didn't actually own a motorcycle.

Luckily, the nurse – despite her talkative nature – didn't probe too much about the exact cause of the injury. The new notch was disinfected, sewn shut, and bandaged, and the nurse ran a few preliminary tests to determine possible hearing loss; inconclusive, but it seemed fine. Once finished, she joked that Judy should maybe take public transport for a few days. Judy laughed and agreed, then slipped out quietly, having 'forgotten' to properly fill in the paperwork that asked for her name.

After that, she had gone straight home. She was in no mood for further misadventure. As she made her way back to her apartment, her thoughts were troubled. Judy knew she had to get the word out about the disease; the city needed to be warned. But she was all too aware of the fact she had very little to actually go on. As terrifying a prospect as it was, she wasn't about to endanger her vigilante career on nothing more than speculation.

Following a few hours of fitful sleep, she finally compromised with herself. She sent in anonymous tips about the disease to City Hall, the ZPD, and the Bureau of Epidemiology, Pathology and Infection Safety. She suspected that writing anonymous ramblings about a mysterious malady that maddened predators – and only predators - was probably as effective at protecting the city as handing out vitamins on a street corner. But she didn't know what else to do.

That covered, she threw herself back into more familiar territory. In her mask and on her feet, she might actually make a difference. The next night – the white bandage on her ear a stylish addition to the red and black of her costume – she was back in the fight.

She looked up Renato Manchas, former driver to Mr Big, and found his home address. She traversed the tricky jungle of the Rainforest District to investigate his house for clues as to his disappearance. But Mr Big had already informed the ZPD of his missing employee, as any upstanding citizen would. The forensics team had been through already. They had found nothing. Judy found less.

She had nothing. Less than nothing. Because of _him_.

Nick resumed his daily routine as best he could. The morning after the fight, he met up with Finnick and ran another hustle. He could tell Finnick was still annoyed, but the smaller fox said nothing. Nick was glad of that. There was nothing he wanted to say.

Like Judy, he tried to distract himself with work. Like Judy, it didn't actually help. The only moment of genuine levity he stumbled into was when he bumped into Mufasa Kifalme – almost literally. He was out for a walk with his wife and son, and they shared a pleasant if brief conversation. Mufasa, regal eyes glinting, divulged an anecdote about the latest embarrassing (but not entirely undeserved) mishap which had befallen his younger brother. It got a good laugh out of Nick.

He needed one.

Time passed. Both of them tried – and failed – to not think too much about the other. Judy's resentment of that damn fox festered like a wound, keeping her awake when she occasionally tried to catch some sleep. Nick, meanwhile, was haunted by thoughts of a red rabbit – the pain in her eyes, the anger in her voice, the scent of her blood...

They avoided each other. But ignoring a problem doesn't make it go away. And the entire city of Zootopia was still suffering from a very large and very dangerous problem.

* * *

The Cloven Hoof was not the most respectable of drinking establishments.

It was situated in one of the roughest neighbourhoods in the Meadowlands district, hunkered under a rocky outcrop. The exterior was squat and dilapidated. The interior wasn't much better. Cluttered tables, loose papers on the floor, sickly green lighting. At this hour there was a sizeable crowd; almost entirely sheep, with a few goats mixed throughout. Boots and jackets and cigarettes. A particular kind of clientele.

A bar like this held a certain perverse pedigree. It conferred coarse respect, and drinking there could bolster one's reputation as someone not to be trifled with. As a result, some patrons weren't actually as tough as they appeared. But some were. Among the Cloven Hoof's regulars were a select number of truly terrifying individuals. People like Doug Ramses.

The door swung open. The change in the air was almost instantaneous. All sound in the bar – the constant bubble of conversation, ramblings, arguments, threats – was cut short. For a moment, everyone went silent. It was a grim salute, an acknowledgement of hierarchy. Showing even the slightest sign of disrespect was a terrifying prospect. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew who had just walked in.

Dawn Bellwether smiled brightly. "Hiya, fellas! How's everybody doing?"

There was an incomprehensible wave of sound as a bar full of mammals quietly mumbled at the same time.

"That's great! That's great." Bellwether let the door swing shut behind her, ambling through the room. The murmur of conversation rolled back in, but the vibe had changed. It was quieter, lower. From every corner, eyes stayed on Bellwether as she approached the bar.

The barman, a white sheep in a black jacket, was named Harry. To Harry's credit, he shared none of his customers' trepidation. "Dawn! Good to see you. It's been a little while."

She kept a slight distance from the bar in order to see over it without craning her neck. "Suppose so! Let me tell ya, I really need a stiff drink after today."

Harry laid an elbow on the bar, effortlessly sliding into the sympathetic lean that only a bartender can perfect. "Wait, wait, let me guess. That brute Lionheart again, huh?"

"Oh, no points for guessing that, Harry. It's always Lionheart."

"I hear that. But hey – you just keep your chin up, alright? That idiot will be out of office before you know it, and then this city will be run by someone who actually knows what she's doing. We're all rooting for you. Ain't that right, boys?" He raised his voice to address the whole room. The crowd gave a wordless shout of agreement. Sincere and boisterous.

Bellwether chuckled. "Oh, you guys. You are too sweet, y'know that?"

"Hey, I can't speak for these idiots, but I'm just looking out for myself," laughed Harry. "I just hope you remember ol' Harry when you're running the whole show."

"Of course I will! First rule of politics is quid pro quo, after all. And you've been a huge help to me."

"Glad to hear it." He dropped his voice a little. "Speaking of... your preferred booth is open. Like always. Usual order?"

"Yep," said Bellwether. "That's why I'm here."

"Copy that. Your gin and tonic will be ready in a moment."

"Thanks, Harry! You're a lamb."

"Heh. Have a good one, Dawn."

With that, she headed into the back of the bar. By an architectural oddity, there was one booth in the Cloven Hoof that was hidden away in a nook, completely isolated from the rest of the building.

Harry didn't know what was discussed back there. Harry didn't want to know. Harry was smart, and knew it was better if he didn't know. Bellwether appreciated that about him.

She settled herself into the booth, shrugging off her coat and leaving it and her handbag next to her on the soft seat. She stretched her small arms, tense. It had been a rough day at the office.

All the more reason to strike quickly.

When her drink arrived, it wasn't brought by Harry the bartender. It wasn't brought by anyone who formally worked at the bar. Instead, her drink – bubbly and very slightly green, due to the bar's speciality tonic which featured a hint of grass flavouring – was carried to the booth by Doug Ramses. Ex-military sniper. Holder of a master's degree in biochemistry from ZU. The opposite of friendly.

Unfriendly.

Despite that, Bellwether liked Doug. In fact, it was part of the reason she enjoyed his company. All day she was surrounded by bureaucrats and politicians, a sea of soft voices and fake smiles. Compared to them, Doug's utterly blunt mannerisms were refreshing.

He sat across from her, laying down her drink as well as his own frothy beer. "Hey, boss. How's it going?"

She sighed. Doug was one of the few people she felt she could be truly honest with. "Not great."

"Yeah?"

"Of course not!" she snapped. She took a long drink from her glass, then set it down. "I mean, the plan's _working_. You've been doing great."

"Thanks," said Doug, stone-faced.

"But it's time to bring Lionheart down, and, well..." She sighed, resting her cheek on one hoof. "I wanted it to be Hopps."

She glared into empty space, the dim green light of the bar reflecting off her glasses.

"It was going to be perfect. A small prey policewoman solving the case of the century, single-handedly. It would've been such a useful step in showing the public, the world, that the little guys need to be taken seriously." Another swig. "But that hulking idiot Bogo fired her over some petty argument! I know it was a while ago, and I keep going on about it – sorry to keep bringing it up–"

"No problem," said Doug, stone-faced.

"–but it still gets my goat! Y'know who's my backup to solve the case? McHorn. And he's _soooooo_ dense." She sagged where she sat, dragging out the word. "No imagination at all. Plus, he's huge! No-one underestimates a rhino! But a bunny..." She shook her head wistfully. "A bunny would've really been something."

Doug took a slow drink from his mug before speaking. "I guess you haven't heard, then."

"Heard what?"

"About what Hopps is doing now."

"Oh. No?" Bellwether blinked. "I kinda assumed she just went back to whatever rustic hobbit village she came from."

"Yeah. No."

Doug produced a photograph. It was dark and blurry, but the subject was unmistakable; a small but resolute figure in red.

"This has been making the rounds. Buddy of mine sent it to me. Apparently, there's a rabbit making trouble for people all over town. Intervening in street fights, that kind of thing. A busybody." His seat creaked slightly as he leaned forward. "But get this. She only showed up after Hopps got fired. And she matches her description exactly."

For a moment, Bellwether said nothing. She sat there, impassive, looking through Doug as she processed this information.

Then she burst out laughing.

"Oh my god! That is _hilarious!_ You're kidding, right?"

"No," said Doug.

He wasn't.

"She's a vigilante now? Oh, that's just so precious! Still trying to make the world a better place..." Bellwether chuckled absently. "So, what's she done? I wanna hear all about her dumb exploits. All the crime rings she's broken up, all the ticking bombs she's dumped in the ocean, any alien invasions she might have stopped..."

"Well, I dunno about any bombs... or aliens... but she has made some bold moves. Word is, she attacked Mr Big directly, in his own house."

"In his own house?! Damn..." She shook her head, halfway between awe and amusement. "I can't imagine that went down well. Is she still alive?"

"Think so. Big's real mad, understandably. But he hasn't confirmed or denied anything, which sounds like he didn't manage to kill her. Otherwise he'd be using it as an example. Everyone would know."

"Mmm, yes." Bellwether took a thoughtful sip. "Well, we've been watching Big for years. He's like a glacier – sure, he's deadly, but he moves slow. If Judy didn't die in his house, she still has some time. Time for... all this." She swirled her drink in her hand. "Please, let me know anything else you find out! I'd love to hear more about this. Gosh, a masked vigilante... that is _so_ funny..."

"Yeah." He took a long drink, then wiped some froth off his upper lip. "Are you gonna contact her? You just said you wanted her to bring Lionheart down."

"Hmm... no," said Bellwether. "I think that ship has still sailed. I wanted Officer Hopps to crack the case, not Super-Judy. The public needs to trust the system, Doug. My system. A vigilante could actually be very dangerous. Give the public someone else to rally behind..."

"I see," said Doug. "So, should we kill her?" Casual. Like checking if they needed groceries.

Bellwether waved a hand. "No, no. Not right now. Like I said, keep an eye on her, but leave her alone for the moment. We'll deal with her if and when the time comes." She smiled brightly. "Besides, there's someone else I want you to focus on right now."

"Mmh, thought so. We don't meet like this unless you need to discuss something big."

"Yes, yes. So, Doug..." She smirked, her eyes glinting. "Are you familiar with the phrase 'bread and circuses'?"

"No," said Doug.

He wished she wouldn't waste time with these dramatic presentations. He was a simple mammal, efficient and direct. He preferred to just hear his orders and get going. Bellwether, by contrast, enjoyed something of an ostentatious touch when outlining her plans. This was a natural result of obsessing over something which she could only discuss with a tiny number of people. She had a lot of time to mentally prepare her speeches.

"Well, 'bread and circuses' is an old saying about how people are pretty good at ignoring problems if they have the basics. If there's food and something on TV, the whole city could crumble to the ground without much complaint. And that poses a slight problem for our agenda. No matter what's happening in the world, the public can remain calm... as long as they have their bread, and their circuses."

"So?"

Bellwether laughed. "Well, you and I need to eat like everybody else..." Her smile remained cheerful even as her tone darkened. "...so we burn down the circus."

"The mark's a celebrity?"

"Oh, yeah. Specifically, the current darling of the entire city: that horned harlot, Gazelle. Word has begun to spread about the missing mammals. The public's already feeling a little uneasy, and she's noticed. She's putting on some kind of charity concert in Zootennial Stadium this Saturday."

"Oh, yeah," said Doug, with the interest of someone whose music collection mostly consisted of different files of white noise. "Read that somewhere."

"Sure. It's big news. The entire city will be watching." She adjusted her glasses, slipping into an expression of mock tragedy. "Which will make it so _heartrending_ when one of those ugly brutes she calls back-up dancers goes nuts and rips her guts out. Gosh, think of the _headline_..."

Doug's brow twitched. "Seriously? That's what you want me to do?"

"Come on, Doug. It's a little late to start developing a conscience, don't you think?"

"It's not that. I couldn't care less what happens to that glorified stick figure." He leaned forward slightly. "You're asking me to dart somebody in full view of millions of people. Even if no-one sees the pellet on the night, there's gonna be recordings. The press, the feds, the obsessive weirdos she calls fans... someone's gonna notice. How am I supposed to do this without giving myself away?"

Bellwether waved a hand dismissively as she sipped her drink. "You're the genius. You figure it out."

"No, boss, I'm just _a_ genius. You're _the_ genius."

She chuckled. "Oh, Doug! I suppose you've got a point there..."

His frown deepened. "I mean, you're the one in charge. Don't give me an impossible task."

" _Tsk_... you're such a crybaby." She thought for a moment. "Didn't you say you were playing around with an airborne version? Could you use that instead of a pellet?"

"Two problems. First, it's slow. Introducing the toxin via the respiratory system would take a lot longer than the pellets. It'd be a while before it hit the brain."

"Perfect!" said Bellwether. "Use that. Dose him before he goes on stage, and time it so he snaps at the right moment."

"Yeah, okay, maybe. But the other problem is that it's not invisible. No matter what I do, it comes out bright blue."

"And you can't fix that?"

"Not before Saturday."

Bellwether shrugged. "Well, don't worry. We live in interesting and obnoxious times. I'll figure out a way for you to dose him."

"You'd better."

She downed the last of her gin and tonic, then went to leave. She threw her coat back on and gathered her things. "Don't worry, Doug. I'll handle it. The same way I've handled everything else."

"You've gotten this far," conceded Doug. "As long as I can actually follow it, I'm down for any plan you come up with."

"That's what I like to hear!" She chuckled lightly. "I'll be in touch."

"Sure. Sure."

With that, Dawn Bellwether walked back through the bar, bid a fond farewell to Harry the bartender, and headed home.

Doug Ramses silently melted back into the shadows.


	6. Red Flag

**_[Hello again! Apologies for the minor hiatus, but now that exams are over, hopefully updates will be a lot more regular. My thanks to everybody who's followed this story so far! Special mention goes to the anonymous reviewer who helpfully pointed out that, no, aerosol drugs are actually absorbed and metabolized by the body almost instantaneously, and what Doug said in the last chapter is in fact the opposite of true. Whoops. Oh well, this is why we write fanfic; to practice our craft, and confine our embarrassing errors to a comparatively safe space. Well, that's why I write fanfic. A lot of people write fanfic because they want to watch a fox and a rabbit – uh, I'm going to stop Author's Noting now.]_**

* * *

Saturday arrived.

Nick had gone to bed early the previous night, since he had arranged to meet his mother for Dinner slash Breakfast slash Question Mark at the mutually awkward hour of six in the morning. He didn't intend to do much afterwards; otherwise, this Saturday ran the risk of being a very long day.

He had no idea.

Oblivious to the coming hours, Nick headed for his childhood home. As a major city with a hefty nocturnal population, Zootopia offered public transportation at all hours. The bus he boarded at half five wasn't packed, but it was far from empty.

Nick settled the shopping bag he was carrying onto his lap. His eyes, slightly glazed, watched through the window as the city rolled by – and his old suburb came into view. The sun had just begun to rise as the bus trundled to his destination, the timid light of early morning casting a sickly orange tint on the familiar streets and buildings.

They pulled up to a corner Nick knew well. He was the only one who disembarked. The doors slid shut behind him and the bus wasted no time in driving off.

Nick allowed himself to sigh quietly as he took in the view.

Grass and weeds poking up through the constant cracks in the sidewalk. Graffiti on every surface. A sense of despair hanging in the air; mild, but slightly too definite to be brushed off as one's imagination.

Yes. He was home.

He set off on his usual route, his paws instantly reacclimatising to the mixture of concrete and vegetation under him. The bus stop was a few blocks away from his mother's apartment, so he had plenty of time to take in the details. The place did look better, admittedly. The garbage on the pavement had arranged itself into polite piles resting against shop walls and clustered around street-lamps. When he was a kit, the streets were a minefield. Old fast food wrappers were one thing. Broken glass was another.

He had gone too long without coming here. It was taking mental energy to maintain his usual deadpan expression and nonchalant posture. He gripped the bag a little tighter. These streets were getting to him. He had lived here for the first half of his life. Every stretch of sidewalk brought back a host of overlapping memories, different points in time layered on the same space. This had been where he had played, learned, grown. Where he had ran his first cons.

What should have been a pleasantly nostalgic walk was leaving him drained. Nick wanted to get to his mother's as soon as possible. But still – without even thinking about it – he took the longer route. The route he had gotten used to walking.

The route that avoided the shop front that read **JOHN WILDE – _Formal Wear, Formal Hire_** , the windows smashed, signs slathered in graffiti, the door locked forever.

Nick finally closed in on the apartment complex, but the memories only intensified as he got nearer.

The front door. Age eight. Watching a gang of older kids spraypaint swearwords on the wall across the street and being simultaneously gripped by amusement and fear.

The hallway. Age twelve. Getting the mail for Mrs Cardenas, a grandmotherly hyena on the fifth floor. He used to pick up her mail from her designated letterbox in the ground floor lobby. She paid him in spare change for sparing her from the stairs.

The stairwell. Age six. Bounding down on his way to school and nearly tripping over their wolverine neighbour Mr Howlett, who had arrived home blackout drunk and passed out on the cold steps.

The second floor landing. Age seventeen. Glaring through the bars on window, nothing on his mind except wordless anger.

Apartment 301. For as long as he could remember, home.

He took a deep breath. He reminded himself that the anxiety he was feeling was meaningless, just a benign symptom of long absence. Then he knocked.

"Just one moment!" came a familiar voice, muffled by the door. Approaching footsteps. The clicking of multiple locks. The creak of old hinges. And there she was.

Shorter than Nick, although not by much. Green eyes, tired but warm. Still wearing her favourite lilac sweater.

Marian Wilde.

She smiled, her ears perking. "Nick! It's so good to see you. It's been too long."

Nick, finally, let his constant guard down. It was like casting off a physical weight. "Yeah. It has. Sorry."

She beckoned him inside, closing the door behind him. "Hush. Don't worry about it." She reached out and touched him gently on the arm. A calculated action. She knew his boundaries. "It's just nice to have you back."

He glanced down to her paw. But it was fine. It was his mother. He gave her a smile. "Nice to be here."

She drew back, raising a wry eyebrow. "You _could_ visit more often, though. Always an option."

"Sure thing." He lifted the shopping bag, offering it vaguely. "I, uh, didn't like the idea of just showing up and eating your food, so here. I brought some of that tea you like."

"Oh, Nicky! Thank you so much. You shouldn't have." She glanced inside the bag, and saw it was indeed a brand she enjoyed; specifically a brand of green tea imported from overseas. Quite rare. Quite expensive. She blinked. "Really, you shouldn't have..." She recovered, giving him a look of mock suspicion. "...This didn't 'fall off the back of a truck', I hope."

Nick rolled his eyes. Instantly he was half his age. "No, _Mom_. It did not fall off the back of a truck. I _stole_ it. Jeez."

She laughed, heading toward the kitchen. "Of course, of course. Come in! Take a seat at the table, the food's almost ready."

He glanced around at the apartment as he followed her. Same old furniture, same cramped corners, same faded green wallpaper. Home. "Need a hand with anything?"

"No, I'm fine!" She set the bag down on the kitchen counter; Nick hovered in the doorway, watching as she checked the oven. "It won't take long. Take a seat, get comfortable."

She gestured vaguely to the kitchen table across from the counter; small, but ornately set for two. The good cutlery.

She slipped on two oven gloves and opened the oven door. Her voice was warm. "I hope you still like Carrots!"

Nick blinked. "What?"

She didn't turn, focused on her work. "I said I hope you like carrots, Nick. You haven't gone off them or anything, have you?"

Nick swallowed, trying to focus on the moment. Here and now. "Uh, no. No. Still a fan of carrots."

"I'm glad to hear it!" She removed a large pot and placed it on the stove. "They were on sale at the supermarket, but I forgot I'd already bought some, and... well, long story short, the more carrots I can make you eat, the better."

Nick smiled, giving a grandiose shrug. "Ah, the dutiful son's work is never done. Don't worry, Mom. I'll eat as many carrots as it'll take to make you happy."

"Exactly what every mother wants to hear..."

Nick smirked warmly. He had gotten a lot from his mother – so, so much – but the most precious gift to him was their shared wit. Even from a young age, she supported him, matched him, challenged him. She laughed at his jokes before he was old enough for them to actually make sense. Humour was second nature to him now, because of her. Because of both of them.

Marian finally relented to his repeated offers of help, allowing him to serve his own portion. She had made a casserole which was, indeed, heavy on carrots. They took their places at the table, talking as they ate. Nick had worried that he wouldn't know what to say, but from the moment he entered, the conversation flowed easily.

Until Marian – being his mother – dove headlong into embarrassing territory.

"So when are you going to introduce me to a vixen?"

Nick rubbed his eyes. "Oh my god, Mom..."

"What? Perfectly natural for a woman my age to want grandkits. So out with it – no evasions, no half-truths. Is there anyone in your life?"

He sighed, buying time by shoving more carrot into his mouth. Finally, he mumbled a reply. "I wish."

"Hmm..." Mrs Wilde gestured vaguely with her fork. "I think that technically qualifies an evasion, but it's an honest answer. I'll allow it."

"Thanks," he said flatly. "Jeez, Mom, a little warning next time..."

"Oh, relax. I'm just curious."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but there's nothing to tell. I haven't been seeing much of anybody except Finnick."

"Ah, yes." She nodded slowly. "Your little friend. How's he doing?"

"He's fine."

"Well, tell him I said hello." She smirked. "That can hardly be it, though. You've always been so social. Take pity on your boring old mother and tell me about someone exciting you met recently."

Nick chewed on his carrot, thoughtful.

It was a bad idea.

But in many ways, his mother knew him better than he knew himself. He had come to accept that. And he had also come to accept that he might need some advice. Finnick didn't care. No-one else knew.

Here he was.

He swallowed, and steeled himself. "There is... someone. Someone I've dealt with a lot lately." He gave a half-shrug, evasive. "Weird circumstances. Too long to explain."

 _And there's no way in hell I'm going to terrify you with the details_.

"But something's been bugging me," he continued. "Maybe you could help me get some insight on it?"

She cocked her head, curious. "Of course. I'd be glad to talk you through any problem you're having. That's my job. Who's giving you trouble?"

"She's not giving me trouble. It's..." He frowned. "It's the opposite, really."

"Ah," said Mrs Wilde. "So you're giving _her_ trouble."

"No. Well – I was going to say she helped me get out of trouble." Nick kept his eyes on his plate. "But now that you mention it... yeah. That too."

His mother shook her head, but she was smiling. "Nicholas Wilde. Ever the heartbreaker."

"I'm electing to ignore that," said Nick. "I don't think you'd be quite so enthusiastic if you had any idea how crazy she is."

"She'd have to be, to put up with you."

"Thanks, Mom. Look, don't get ahead of yourself, alright? It's not like that! Not at all. She's obnoxious and stupid and... really _violent_..."

She shrugged calmly. "Nobody's perfect."

"Mom. She's a rabbit."

She shrugged calmly. "Nobody's perfect."

" _Mom!_ "

Mrs Wilde held a hand against her mouth, giggling. "Sorry, sorry! I couldn't resist. No more silly comments, I promise. What's your problem?"

Nick sighed gently, laying down his fork. It was hard to know where to begin... or it would have been, if he didn't have to redact so much of the story. Withholding the actual events from his mother just left the vague gist of what had happened, and with it, the core of his concern. Art comes from restriction.

"So... like I said, long story short, I got into trouble. And this rabbit helped me. Which was good of her! Especially since I... well, see, we had actually met once before. Kinda got off on the wrong foot."

He could feel her eyes on him – how she didn't buy for a second that their first meeting had just been some harmless misunderstanding – but he made himself continue.

"Basically, what I'm getting at is, she went out of her way for me. And I should be grateful. I know I should." He frowned. "But I'm not. If anything, I'm... upset. At her. For doing what she does."

There was a pause as Marian thought this over. No sound in the kitchen except the gentle clicking of her claws as she tapped them together.

"So, based on what you've told me," and there was a subtle emphasis to that phrase, an implicit message of _I know you're hiding something but I won't press it_ , "I have a theory. But it's nothing groundbreaking. I'm surprised you haven't mentioned it yourself, actually; it's a trait you've had since childhood."

"I'm open to hearing it, Mom," said Nick, "but I really don't see how me being the world's most handsome mammal factors into this."

"Nice try. It's not that. It's..." She sighed, eyes slowly lowering to the table. "...You hate being _helped_ , Nick."

"I, um..." He shifted in his seat. "What?"

"This friend of yours... you used the phrase 'went out of her way'. So whatever she did," and there was that emphasis again, stronger this time, "it was something you consider supererogatory. You think you didn't deserve her help." She shrugged, terse. "Which isn't surprising. Because you never think you deserve help."

"Well..."

"No. That's always been true of you. Ever since your father..." She trailed off for a moment, then collected herself. She looked him in the eye, more firm. "Even when your father was still around, it was difficult sometimes to make ends meet. And without him, well... I could tell you didn't want to be a burden. That's something no child should ever go through. But that Scout uniform was the last thing you ever let me buy you. Since then, you've always wanted to carry your own weight."

Nick took a sudden interest in his glass of water. "I mean, isn't that normal?"

"No," said Marian. "That is not normal. Not for a child. Actually, I think you still take it too far. I mean, _really,_ Nick. You 'didn't like the idea of eating my food'? I'm your mother! I haven't seen you in forever! You aren't a waste of my time, or my money." Her voice grew softer. "You never are. You never will be. It breaks my heart you'd ever think that way."

At a loss, Nick just murmured "Yeah."

"But you can't even let yourself have a... a normal meal without feeling guilty. So you show up with..." She pointed to the bag on the counter. "Nick, that tea must've cost you more than every ingredient of this dinner put together. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

 _Reading an awful lot into a present, aren't you? Note taken. Next time I won't bring anything._

The retort formed instantly, spring-loaded. An instinct. No real emotion behind it. That made it easier to push aside. Instead, Nick swallowed. "I just..."

"I know," she said gently. "But I'm your mother. You should be able to rely on me. Instead, you're purposefully limiting yourself. Cutting yourself short to give me things I don't need. Like, for example, a house."

"I still don't see why you won't move in," said Nick. "I lucked into getting that place, I don't have any attachment to it. Just say the word and I'll leave, you can–"

"Nick, no!" She was laughing, but it was incredulous laughter. Almost angry. "How many times do we need to have this discussion? I don't want to move. This apartment is old and small, certainly. But I like it here. I like the memories. And you deserve your own space! An actual home, not a box under a bridge!"

Nick managed a facetious smile. "For the last time, Mom, I was kidding when I said that."

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me," she said. "You're self-sacrificing to absurd levels. Like your education!"

"Here we go," he murmured.

"Yes. Here we go indeed. I practically begged you to try for college, Nick. You were always so bright, even as a little boy. You could've pursued anything you wanted. And _what_ did you end up doing?" She gave him a withering look. "Some harmless degree in, what was it, 'Business Acumen'? Which you blew through in two years because it was far below your level and came from some rinky-dink little..."

"Hey," said Nick, holding up a paw in mock defence, "Greentail Community College is a fine institution."

"We both know it's not," said Marian flatly. "You deserved a real college. A real degree. A real _future_. You didn't have to graduate top of your class in ZU, Nick. You just deserved something you actually wanted to do. But you went there instead, and not because it was what you wanted. You chose it because it was cheap, and easy, and because you could breeze through the classes and keep _'working'_ at the same time."

He had tried to keep joking. To stick to humour. But at the word 'working' – the bitter, ironic emphasis – Nick's timid smile died. He shrank; shoulders sagging, ears flat, eyes on the table instead of her.

When he spoke, his voice was low.

"So you are ashamed of me."

"Oh, Nicky..." She reached over to touch his paw. "Of course I'm not ashamed of you. I love you. You know that."

He drew his hand back. "That doesn't change the fact I'm a hustler. A lowlife."

"Nick, you are so much more than that."

"Am I? I never tried to be anything else. Not really. You're right about that. The, uh..." He cleared his throat. "The rabbit. She said that too."

 _Especially not some **jerk** who never had the __guts_ _to try to be anything more than a popsicle hustler!_

He pushed aside the memory – as best he could – and worked up the nerve to look his mother in the eye. She was watching him with concern. Her pain was obvious.

"Mom, I need you to be honest with me. Do you..." He cleared his throat. Again. Words were hard. "Are you angry? About what I do?"

She didn't reply immediately. He watched her order her thoughts, pushing through her emotions with the focus of a dedicated parent.

"I'm not angry at _you_ , Nick. Please believe me when I say that. But yes. I am angry. I'm angry you... you felt you _had_ to do it. And still do. I'm angry that you looked at the world and decided it was the only path you could take." She sighed. "It's not your fault. But that doesn't mean I'm happy."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. That's good to know."

"Did you really...?" She stared. "Oh, no. Please don't tell me this is why you made yourself scarce. Because you thought I was _ashamed_ of you."

Nick scratched his neck. "I mean... the fact we're on different sleep cycles didn't help. Practically speaking. But, um..."

"That's it." Marian stood suddenly, her face hard. She marched toward him. "I can't allow this."

Nick couldn't help but tense. "Mom, what are–?"

She pulled him into a firm hug.

Nick froze, blinking uncertainly. She held him tightly. Solid. Reliable. There.

"Nick," she said softly. "I'm your mother. I love you. I am so, _so_ proud of you. And no matter what happens, I will _never_ be ashamed of you."

For a moment, he just sat there. At a loss. The earlier memories had been separate events, distinct in his mind. But the embrace of his mother brought back something different, a general feeling. Something warm and sacred and just beyond words.

He had really missed her.

He willed his arms into moving. He returned the embrace, letting out a slow breath. Letting himself relax. His tail curled up to meet hers.

"Thanks, Mom."

She didn't reply, only patting his shoulder. The silence was warm. They stayed like that for a while. Comforting.

Finally she pulled away, smiling sheepishly. "We should probably get back to the food. It'll get cold at this rate."

He returned her smile. "Right. Sure."

She sat back down and they continued eating. The conversation moved to lighter topics. Nick made a crack about Mayor Lionheart that made Marian laugh so hard she almost choked on her water.

For the first time in years, Nick was home.

They kept talking through to dessert, a small but delicious blueberry pie. But for his mother, it was getting late. He noticed as she began to wilt, slowly losing the ability to match his pace. Soon, it was time to go.

Saying goodbye was a long process. They were still talking as he came to to front door.

"This was good!" said Nick. "I'm really glad we did this."

"Me too." She yawned, her tail swishing slowly behind her. "We could always do it again, you know. I'm sure I can foot the bill of having you raid my kitchen."

"Sure, sure."

She went in for a final hug. This time, Nick was ready. He gratefully returned it, his head on her shoulder.

"I mean it," she murmured. "You can visit me any time. Please, don't be a stranger. Life is short."

"Yeah."  
 _  
_ _Yes! Worse! It's a pathogen, a contagion. Do you know what that means? It's a disease!_

"Yeah..." mumbled Nick. "Life _is_ short."

He took a breath, refocusing himself. He drew back, his paws on her shoulders.

"Thanks, Mom. For everything."

"You're more than welcome." She lifted a finger, eyes narrowing. "No matter what that nasty little voice in your head might tell you."

"Alright, alright. Message received." He went to leave, but his hand hovered on the first lock. He stood there for a moment, frowning into empty air.

Marian blinked. "What is it, dear?"

"Um... I appreciate this might sound a bit, uh... I mean, you _just_ told me that I could ask for something, and immediately I'm gonna..."

She sighed heavily. "Nicholas, you're exhausting. Whatever it is, the answer is yes. I'd be happy to help. What do you need?"

He turned around, his paws kneaded together awkwardly.

"Could I... borrow your car?"


	7. Red vs Blue

It was still early in the morning. Across town, Judy was staring into her bathroom mirror.

She had just finished a grim new morning ritual. After getting the hole in her ear patched, the nurse had advised her apply a fresh bandage every day. The bleeding had long since stopped. But Judy kept doing it. She would remove the unsullied bandage and wrap a new one around her ear, going by touch alone. She only checked her work in the mirror when the bandage was in place, obscuring the notch from view.

She didn't want to look at it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

But this morning she had run out of bandages – something she had only realized as she tossed her last one in the garbage. She had meant to get more, but missed her chance. Last night she had caught sight of a drugstore and was about to go in when she heard a scream from a nearby alley. After that, it slipped her mind.

She had contemplated ducking out to the nearest pharmacy – it was only a little ways down the street. But that street had people. It had eyes. It had reflective windows.

So instead – after miserably chewing through a tiny breakfast – she had searched her apartment for something else she could use. Something that she could wrap around her ear, at least for the moment.

Nick's red handkerchief was sitting on her radiator.

She had stared at it, frowning. When she came home that night, she had washed out the blood – blankly, on autopilot – and left it to dry. It sat there. Clean red fabric.

His.

She had nothing else. Not unless she was willing to wrap an old sock around her ear.

Growling to herself, she grabbed it.

It was trickier to apply than a bandage, especially without being able to see her work. But she tied it in place. Her ear was covered.

Now here she was. Staring into her mirror. Staring at her ear. Wondering.

There was a knock on the door.

Judy blinked. She sometimes lost track of time, now that her sleep schedule was so erratic, but... no. No, it was definitely morning. Early morning.

Who was knocking?

Two more knocks followed. Sharp and short. They were losing patience.

"Who's there?" called Judy.

"Yeah?!" came Bucky's muffled voice from the next apartment. "Who is that?!"

"Some of us are _trying_ to sleep!" came Pronk's. Judy sighed quietly.

The intruder spoke. "Hopps, open up. Now." Deep. Impatient. Authoritative.

Judy tensed. She knew that voice.

Officer McHorn.

There wasn't any time to think. But Judy had gotten used to living like that. There were few reasons why McHorn would come to her home and demand to see her at this hour. She assumed the worst. The worst left her with two options, one of which was to comply. See what he wanted. Surrender, if she had to. A sensible choice, quiet and boring and probably smart.

She didn't choose that option.

She was still in her pyjamas. Her suit was hanging on her apartment's only chair, the helmet laying on the desk. She scrambled over and began to change. "Uh, hi! Could you wait just a second?"

"No. Open this door."

"I can't!" She hopped in place, struggling with one leg. "I, um... I'm not decent!"

"Oh my god, rabbit!" yelled Pronk. "What are you doing in there?!"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, _idiot!_ She was probably just gonna shower or something!"

"Shut up!"

" _You_ shut up!"

" **Both** of you shut up!" McHorn wasn't knocking any more. Now he was pounding on the door. Dust fell from the ceiling. "Judith L. Hopps!" Belt. "I have a warrant for your arrest!" Chest piece. "Come out with your hands up," wristguards "or I will subdue you with force!"

Judy slid her helmet into place. She turned to the door, stance firm and red resplendent.

"Try me."

The door swung open and before McHorn cleared the frame Judy was kicking the chair across the floor. It slammed into him, square in the chest. He wheezed, stopping short.

Judy was already moving, leaping through the window to the fire escape. She took stock of the street below. McHorn wasn't alone. There were three police cruisers parked on the curb.

They were closing in.

She glanced over her shoulder, just to confirm that – yes, McHorn was shoving the chair aside, trying to get closer. Time to move.

The ladder to the ground was one window over. She jumped to it – and caught sight of Bucky and Pronk staring at her in awe from their shared bed.

Judy met their gaze calmly. "You are terrible neighbours. Goodbye forever, maybe."

Then she slid down the ladder.

A moment later she hit the street and ran. She didn't even know where she was going. All she knew is that the ZPD would give her nothing but a jail cell. They wouldn't listen. She was in too deep.

She turned a corner and two officers whipped around. Ones she recognized. A tiger and a wolf. They had been nice.

Judy stopped short, tensing. "Fangmeyer, hey! And Wolford! How was your cousin's operation?"

His eyes narrowed as he and Fangmeyer drew their batons. "Fine. She's recovering at home."

"That's... that's great! Tell her I said hi!"

"No."

He leapt in and Judy dodged past him, eyes on Fangmeyer. The tiger was fast, but the size difference worked to Judy's advantage. She feinted and when the baton came down she threw herself forward, sliding along the pavement. Then she was off.

She heard Wolford growl. "Dammit, Fangmeyer! She scampered right under you!"

"I am **not** scampering!" yelled Judy.

"Scamper back here and prove it!" called Fangmeyer. The two cops broke into a sprint. Closing in.

She ran.

She lived on this street, she knew the area, but that wasn't much of an advantage. She could probably outrun two officers. But not a cruiser. Not a dragnet. Not the back-up McHorn had undoubtedly called in.

Judy was alone in the world now, with nothing but her suit and a can of fox repellent.

She slipped down an alleyway, tight brick walls and trash cans, Fangmeyer and Wolford still behind her.

Two lions were blocking the other side.

Delgato reached for his radio immediately. "We've got her surrounded. Alleyway just north of the Grand Pangolin Arms." Businesslike as ever.

Johnson, by contrast, was still himself.

"Oh my god," he said, raising an eyebrow. "We'd heard reports you made yourself a little outfit, but wow. And here I thought nothing could make you look stupider than a police uniform."

Judy's eyes narrowed under the helmet. "Hi, _Bob_."

She heard Fangmeyer and Wolford approach from behind. Slowly. No rush now. She half-turned, stance wide, trying to keep her attention on both sides at once.

"Please, don't come any closer! I don't want to hurt you!"

Delgato glanced up, sharing a dubious look with the others. Johnson just laughed. "That's so sweet of you, Hopps! Unfortunately, you're a violent criminal, so... feeling's not mutual."

He didn't draw his baton. Instead he reached for a holster on the other side of his belt, unclipping it, bringing out his sidearm. Black pistol, yellow stripes. Shock pistol.

Delgato's brow twitched. "Bob..."

"What?" he snapped. "She was in the precinct for like four days and spent eight _years_ of that time complaining that no-one took her seriously." He levelled the pistol at Judy. "Well, here's me taking you seriously. Here's me making sure I use enough force to put your crime spree to an end. You happy, Hopps?"

She tensed her fists, reading herself. "Ecstatic."

He fired.

The pistol discharged a tight bolt of crackling electricity. It cut through the air in an arc, fast and powerful. But Judy was already moving, jumping up and kicking off the wall. She was a small, moving target. Johnson fired again, missed, and hit Fangmeyer.

"God, sorry!" he yelled, but the blast had caught Fangmeyer right on the nose. The tiger leaned against the wall, biting back a hiss.

"Johnson, hold your fire!" barked Delgato, drawing his baton. "Wolford, help me pin her."

"That's not gonna work!" snapped Johnson, but they ignored him. Delgato and Wolford advanced as Judy slipped between two trashcans that were larger than she was.

"Seriously!" she said. "Don't make me hurt you!"

"Hopps." Wolford sounded resigned. Tired, almost. "Please stop talking."

He closed in, pulling back one of the metal bins –

and the other flew suddenly, slamming into Delgato and knocking him on his back.

"Sorry!" said Judy, and immediately sprang up, grabbed Wolford's baton in both paws, and kicked him in the chest. He was a good cop. She tried to limit herself, not hit him too hard. But she still brought enough force to wrench the baton from his grip and send him stumbling into Fangmeyer, who hadn't yet recovered.

"Sorry!" she said again, and turned her attention back to Johnson. Snarling, he resumed fire. Judy bounded towards him, zig–zagging down the alley and dodging the bursts of electricity that sizzled weakly on the pavement. Johnson backed up, wary of her speed, but didn't stop firing. As the gap closed, he reached for his baton and she reached for her fox repellent and she was faster.

"Not sorry," she growled, and jumped up and off a wall and sprayed him in the face as she passed.

She heard him yell in pain and his pistol clatter to the pavement but she was already running, shoving the bottle back onto her belt. She cleared the alley and hit the street. She didn't even know what the point was any more. She had no plan. But she wasn't about to stop.

And suddenly there was a car.

Not a very impressive car, admittedly. Small, unassuming. A dim grey colour, almost bordering on light purple. The car of a middle–aged mother on a budget. But a car.

The car stopped and flashed its lights. Its back door flew open. It idled urgently.

Judy weighed up her options as effectively as she could within half a second.

She jumped in.

The car was driving before she even closed the door. Quickly, but not recklessly. Just a model citizen on their way to work. The driver knew what he was doing.

Judy peered over the back seat to watch out the window. Wolford jogged out of the alleyway, sniffing the air. He glanced around in all directions, searching for red. His eyes landed on the car, but only for a moment. He looked away. They turned a corner.

Safe.

" _Hooo_ , boy!" Judy slid her helmet off, trying to catch her breath. She was sweating. "You really saved my tail just there! Without you, I'd–"

She looked around.

Nick Wilde was driving.

He caught her eye in the rear–view mirror.

He gave her a timid smile.

"Stop the car," said Judy icily.

"Listen–!"

"Stop. The _car_."

Nick's hand hovered over the gearstick. He let out a noise somewhere in the region of "ffrrmmn" and pulled over, under a small bridge. The underpass was shaded, the concrete above blocking the sun. Water rushed below them.

He stopped the car.

Ears high, Judy went to open the door.

"Are you serious?" said Nick. "We need to move. You won't get out of here on foot, there's cops everywhere."

"Yes," said Judy. "All of whom I consider to be better friends than you. Including Officer Johnson. Who just tried to electrocute me."

Nick turned in his seat, eyes hard. "And you're really gonna just turn around and surrender? To Officer Johnson?"

Judy's paw was on the door handle. "Officer Johnson," she said slowly, "didn't get me shot."

Silence hung in the car.

Nick winced, forcing himself to speak. "Hopps, please. Five minutes of your time. That's all."

"'Five minutes?!'" Judy gestured vaguely back toward her apartment. "I'm kinda in the middle of something here, Slick!"

"I noticed," said Nick, trying not to sound angry, "and you got this far thanks to me. Doesn't that win me _any_ points? I just wanted to visit you, y'know. I didn't come here expecting to bail you out of getting arrested. You do something?"

She shrugged tersely, eyes out the window. Like a stroppy teenager. "I've done lots of things. You know that. Don't know why they're only after me now. Or how they knew it was me."

"Uh huh," said Nick, trying not to sound dubious. And failing. "Well, maybe it was Mr Big. You broke into his house, after all. Sometimes he likes to actually report crimes. When he's the victim, of course. It's funny to him."

"Whatever. I'll deal with him later." She turned her glare back to Nick. "What do you want?"

Without an ounce of hesitation, Nick pointed at the handkerchief around Judy's ear. "I came to get that back. Obviously. Just hand it over and I'll..."

Judy chuckled darkly – but also drew back, unwilling to part with it even as a joke. "No, seriously. What are you doing here?"

Nick didn't reply immediately. He held her gaze for a moment, reserved but tense. When he finally spoke, his voice was a murmur. "I, um... talked to my mom."

Judy scoffed, mostly out of surprise. "What, really?"

"Yes. Really." He glared into the middle distance. "Should've done it a long time ago, actually. World would be a much smarter place if people just listened to their mothers."

Judy folded her arms. "Not really. If I listened to my mom, I'd be fixing a tractor right now!"

"Exactly," muttered Nick.

She glared. "Look, what do you want? What does your _mom_ have to do with anything?"

"Nothing. She's got no ties to this... disease thing." He took a breath. "Nothing except the fact that she lives in this city, and I love her, and she doesn't deserve to get hurt." He met her gaze, holding himself firm. "There are a lot of mothers in this city, and fathers, and children. I'm not gonna pretend they're all innocent. But you... your weird, idiotic methods might actually be able to save them. And I can help you."

She glanced up and down, examining him. "What do you mean?" she said finally.

"What I'm offering you," he continued, "is movement. I know this city, and I know how to get through it unnoticed. How to avoid cops, the traffic cams, everything. Which apparently is something you really need right now. With that comes two options. If you want, I can help you skip town. You'll be on the next train to Possum Springs before you know it. Far away and quiet. Leave this whole mess behind."

"And the other option?"

"Finish this," he said slowly. "Find out what happened to Otterton. Find out what the hell this disease thing is. Maybe even stop it. I'm not saying that'll... fix everything. Seems like you've burned your bridge with the ZPD. But you weren't using that bridge anyway! You've still got time. You can still make a difference. I know it's risky, and stupid, but..." He gave her a smirk. "I mean, isn't 'risky and stupid' your whole thing?"

"And you really think you can help me? That's..." Judy broke into a bitter smile. "Y'know what? That's _cute_. Yeah. Really cute." She spat the word, dredging years of repressed anger in a single syllable.

He sighed. "Podunk–"

"No," she said. Her eyes went to the river. "I don't want your help, Wilde. If you care so much, go home and look after your mom. That seems more your speed. I'll figure something out. Without you."

Nick took a moment to weigh his options. He had committed himself to this, rehearsing his pitch on the drive over. He had definitely pictured it going worse. She hadn't screamed at him, hit him, or told him to die in a fire. But she wasn't going to budge. He saw no other way forward.

Hard as it may be, Nick had to be honest.

"Carrots."

"...What?"

"That's what I nicknamed you, the day we met." His voice was soft. "It wasn't 'Podunk'. It was 'Carrots'."

Judy sounded unimpressed. "What, you just remember that or something?"

"No. I always knew." He kept his eyes low. "I... pretended not to. Thought it would be weird if it seemed like I remembered you perfectly. Gotta stay aloof. Simple trick. If I'd already started forgetting about you, I'd come off as, y'know... cooler."

"Well, it wouldn't be too weird." Her voice was even, but he heard something else there. An edge. "Because I remembered you. I remember every detail of our first meeting."

"You do?"

"Of **course** I do!" she snapped suddenly, loud enough for Nick's ears to instinctively flatten. She whirled around, eyes burning. "I remember it all because I replayed it over and over, every night! Do you have any idea how hurtful that was for me? The things you said?"

He shrank. "I..."

"And then I got fired, and... and everything you said was right! I couldn't just shrug it off, because you were _right!_ That jerk fox with his stupid, smug attitude was absolutely right when he said I couldn't be a cop!"

She bit her lip, her nose twitching. It looked to Nick like she was forcing herself not to cry. He decided against pointing that out.

Instead, she was clinging to her anger. "You want a dramatic little confession? Well, I'll give you one, and it's a lot nastier than pretending to forget a dumb nickname. When I saw you that night, being attacked by those bears, I..." She faltered, the anger stalling. She balled her fists and closed her eyes and finished the sentence. "...my first thought was, _'Good'_."

He stared. "Really?"

"Yes." Her voice was pained, but cold. "I wish it wasn't true. But it is."

She took a moment to collect her thoughts, eyes to the floor.

"I had helped a couple people by that point. And it feels _really_ good. To swoop in and save someone, just when they've given up hope... I can't describe it. It's one of the best things I've ever felt. Easily." She frowned, mouth tight. "But when I saw it was you, a little part of me thought... 'No. Leave him. Let him learn a lesson'."

"But you didn't," said Nick quietly.

"No," she conceded, "I didn't. I decided to push aside those thoughts and help you anyway. And I was glad I did. I... I felt big. I would've been justified in leaving you there, but I didn't. And that made me feel important. Heroic."

She shook her head lightly, looking at nothing in particular as she slipped into memories.

"When you started being nice to me – treating my injuries, letting me into your home, just... just joking around with me – I realized what a jerk I'd been to even consider abandoning you. It was cruel. It was _wrong_. I realized everyone has good inside them. All you have to do is reach out."

Her face hardened and her tone darkened and she turned her gaze back on Nick, fury quickly building in her eyes.

"And then...! And then you, you... What you did to me, the way you tried to use me! You could've _broken_ me, Nick Wilde! I trusted you and you stabbed me in the back! I survived, _barely_ , but..." She took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to get a grip on herself. "Now I don't know if I can ever trust someone like you again. Now there's a hole in me. And I'm not being poetic! There is a _hole_ in me." She jabbed a finger at her ear, the handkerchief. "Right here! It's never gonna heal! It'll follow me forever, reminding me how stupid I was to believe in you."

Nick just swallowed. For once, he stayed silent. He needed this. He had to make things right somehow. But everything she said was true. There was nothing he could say.

She watched him for a moment, quietly fuming. When he didn't reply, she continued.

"But y'know what? Despite everything... I'm still glad I didn't listen to that voice in my head. I'm still glad I helped you, and trusted you, and thought even for a _second_ you were worth my time. Because I am a good person. A better person than you are, or ever will be, or ever _tried_ to be. That's the truth."

Nick didn't react physically, but he felt a surge through him as his interpersonal instincts caught it.

An opening.

Keeping his voice level and eyes on hers, he said "Prove it."

There wasn't much scope for her to look angrier than she already did, and yet, amazingly, she managed it. "Ex _cuse_ me?"

"If you're such a good person," he said, slipping back into his con–artist persona to keep his tone even, "then prove it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop pretending you have _any_ intention of surrendering to the ZPD, and do the only thing that makes sense. Solve the mystery, expose the disease, and find that stupid otter. I don't blame you for hating me, but do it on your own time. _Let me help you._ "

For a moment she just stared at him. She closed her gaping mouth. She lessened her glare. She took hold of herself.

Then, without a word, she opened the door and left the car.

He tensed. "Hopps, wait!" Idiot. _Idiot_. He had overplayed his hand, pushed her too hard. He scrambled to follow her, throwing off his seatbelt and getting out.

She didn't go quickly, and she didn't go far. Ears high, she walked forwards until she was standing over the rushing water.

Nick said nothing. He pushed aside the urge to plead any further. Instead, he listened carefully, giving her room. He tried to keep a grip on himself. Ignore his heartbeat.

Finally she spoke.

"I will give you," she said, "twenty-four hours."

Nick let out a breath. _Yes_.

"That's _one_ _day_ to find Emmitt Otterton," continued Judy. "I'm not gonna have much more time than that anyway. Do you seriously think we can find him? Do in a few hours what the ZPD hasn't achieved in several _weeks?_ "

"I think we can try," said Nick. "And I think you'd hate yourself if you didn't."

Judy sighed. "That... sounds about right, doesn't it?"

Nick watched her for a moment, but she didn't move. "So... what are you doing?"

She kept her eyes on the water. "Proving I'm a good person."

She reached for her fox repellent and took it out. She looked it over for a moment, as though seeing it for the first time. Then, quietly, she dropped it. It wasn't a big motion. She didn't fling it away. She just let it slip out of her hand.

It landed in the water with a muted splash. Almost inaudible. But Nick heard it.

"Thank you," he said. "I, uh... I appreciate the gesture."

"Mmh."

She walked back to the car, returning to the back seat. Nick got back behind the wheel.

Judy buckled her seatbelt, keeping her ears tall and ears forward. "Let's go. We've wasted too much time as it is. You got me clear of my apartment, but Wolford definitely has my scent. We need to start moving and _keep_ moving."

"Aye aye, cap'n," said Nick, unable to suppress a smile. He started the ignition and pulled the car away. This was happening. He was actually doing this! He was going to help Judy Hopps on her quest for truth. For the first time in his life – as far as he was concerned – he had the chance to make the world a better place. Just him and –

"And don't call me 'Carrots'," she said. "It's dumb. I don't like it."

"Okay. Sure."


	8. Red Tape

Their first priority was to get clear of the ZPD's dragnet. Judy, of course, knew their procedure. Nick also seemed more than passingly knowledgable of how the police operated. She didn't ask how.

The ZPD had failed to arrest Judy at her home; their next step would be to investigate places she was known to visit and local people she had ties to. Unfortunately, Judy didn't have an especially long list of either. That meant more resources spent on a wider search. Patrols, checkpoints, traffic cameras.

She was powerless. She was reliant on Nick. And she hated it.

This blow to her ego wasn't helped by the fact she spent most of the drive lying flat on the back seat. She wanted to sit in the front. Honestly, she wanted to drive. But after a close call with a patrol, they agreed that it was too risky to have her exposed to the windows, with or without her helmet. She glared at the car roof like a furious loaf of bread.

Nick brought her to a quiet part of the Rainforest District, suitably far from her apartment. He parked outside a coffee shop, lurking in the shade of a huge mahogany tree, and left without a word. After a few minutes he returned with a single coffee and a box of small doughnuts, both of which he handed to Judy.

She sat up, wary. "What's this? Peace offering?"

"Duh," said Nick. "I give doughnuts to everybody I send on suicide missions. My mother raised me right."

She opened the box. The doughnuts were covered in orange frosting and smelled faintly of carrots.

She frowned. "Patronizing."

Movement caught her eye. She looked up. Nick's ears had fallen, and he looked uncomfortable. Hurt.

Judy sighed. "I... might have some later. I'll take the coffee now, though. Should help." She took a sip. It wasn't bad. "...Thank you."

"Least I could do. Like, literally." His smile revived, Nick perched on the edge of the driver's seat. "So, you were pretty quiet during the drive."

"I," she said slowly, almost regally, "have been thinking."

"Great!" He grinned, flashing those fangs. "Know where you want to go?"

Without changing her tone, without relaxing her posture or lowering her ears or showing weakness, Judy said "No."

"Alright. Not sure where to start?"

"That's one way to put it," muttered Judy. "The other is that I have zero leads."

"That's okay!" he said. "We've got some time. We can brainstorm. Explain it to me from the start. Pretend like I don't know anything about the case."

"You _don't_ know anything about the case."

"Then it'll be easy!"

Judy's mouth tightened. His constant jokes were starting to grate on her. She considered hitting him with some venomous insult, but she waved off the impulse. Derogating him constantly would just make it lose impact. She had to save her venom for when it mattered.

Instead, she limited her response to "Do you ever get tired of your stupid jokes?"

"Sorry. Amazing jokes are just part of the Nick Wilde package. Perk of working with me. This offer is non–negotiable."

She kept up her glare for a moment. Then she smiled thinly. "Well, at least you're making me feel better about how I'm _definitely_ going to jail after this. No cellmate could possibly be more annoying than you."

He beamed – and looked surprised. "A joke! That's the spirit! Was that so hard?"

"Yes," she said. "Now shut up and let me think."

"Shutting up."

Judy took a moment to order her thoughts, but sadly there wasn't much to order. "All I really have in terms of new information is that Otterton worked as Mr Big's florist."

"Right," said Nick. "Do you want to check out his shop?"

" _Obviously_ I checked there already," she snapped. "More than once, actually."

"And?"

"And nothing," she sighed. "There's only so much I can do without the ZPD's forensics department. All I could establish is that, before he went missing, someone broke in and robbed him. But his bookkeeping's a mess. I couldn't work out what they stole."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't just cash?"

"No. They stole some of his products. Flowers, probably."

Nick shifted in his seat. "Huh."

"'Huh'?" Judy leaned in. "What's 'huh'?!"

"Easy, Podunk. I was just thinking... I know a florist. Nice guy. Nice family, actually! The Dreemurrs, live down by –"

"Nick," said Judy, as calmly as she could, "the point."

"Right, sorry. I heard his shop got broken into a while ago, too. Told me about it last week. And they didn't take money either. Just..." He took a second to remember the name Asgore had used. "'Night Howlers'?"

Judy's brow furrowed. "Could you Zoogle that for me?" Nick nodded and took out his phone. Her own phone was off; the ZPD would be monitoring for its GPS. Judy frowned into empty air, trying to remember if she had heard of the flower before.

"Here it is." Nick squinted at the small script on the screen. "It's a blue flower, a 'crocus varietal' apparently, grows domestically. Scientific name: midnuh... midnickam..."

Judy clutched the coffee tighter. "Midnicampum holicithias!"

"Uh," said Nick, "yeah."

"That's _exactly_ what Weaselton was stealing the day I got fired!"

"Wait, really?" He blinked. "You think it's related?"

"Two's a coincidence. Three's a pattern. Besides, it's a Class C botanical – might have dangerous properties. It's tenuous, but it's a lead. And I'm taking it." She looked him in the eye. "Do you know where we can find Duke Weaselton?"

"But of course!" Wasting no time, Nick slid back into his seat and started the car. "Next stop: Weasel Town."

Judy felt a surge of hope. She pumped her fist and found herself grinning – and her grin instantly died when Nick, without taking his eyes off the road, reached back and pointed downwards.

She sighed angrily, taking another swig of coffee before lying down. She glowered, gripping the cup awkwardly.

Nick didn't need to see her to know she was frowning. "Cheer up, Podunk, we'll be there in no time. And I would be more than happy to regale you with stories to keep you entertained. Seriously, anything you want to hear about! Embarrassing teenage romances, hustles gone wrong, my many and varied failures. You name it!"

She didn't reply immediately. "How about," said Judy slowly and calmly, "we talk some more about that time you almost got me killed?"

Nick's smile stayed in place. "Sure. Okay. Whatever you want. That's... that's fair."

* * *

Driving like this took effort. Nick stuck to very particular routes, constantly on guard for passing police presence. In other circumstances, he would probably stay quiet to improve his focus. That, or rattle off some asinine commentary. That often helped him to relax.

But Judy wanted him to explain himself. So he did.

With his eyes on the road, he couldn't gauge her reactions. It was disconcerting, knowing she was listening without being able to fully see her. It felt confessional. It was confessional. He was honest about it. He owed her that much, at least.

"I think, from the start, I just got... fixated on the idea of you dying. Like, that it was gonna happen sooner or later. I didn't want to face it, I kept trying to ignore it, but that's what was eating me. Started from the moment you saved me. I couldn't even be properly grateful. I thought you were... wasting yourself. On me."

He expected something like " _You were right_." It was a wide opening for a retort. But Judy said nothing.

That felt worse.

"So, um," he continued, "yeah. I've seen enough terrible things in my life. I really didn't want to add your gruesome death to the list. It was throwing me off balance. And I think that's where I was at, mentally, when I... y'know." He cleared his throat, then tried a smile. "When I y'know'd."

Judy stayed quiet. It was a moment before she spoke.

"So what you're telling me," she said slowly, flatly, "is that you sent me on a suicide mission because you didn't want me to die."

"Because I didn't want to _watch_ you die," clarified Nick. He felt the atmosphere in the car get a little icier. "Look, I didn't say it made sense!" he blurted out. "I'm just trying to explain, get my thinking to make a bit more sense to you."

"It's not working."

Nick took a breath. "Okay. Think of it this way. You told me how you almost let Kevin and Raymond knock my teeth out."

"But I didn't."

"Exactly. And in my own scant, flimsy, paper-thin defence... I was wrong. I admit that. It's one of the worst decisions I've ever made, and believe me, that's a long list. And I _realized_ that. I came back for you." He noticed how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. "You changed your mind about abandoning me. I changed my mind about abandoning you. I'm not saying that makes us even, but... we're here, we're together, and we're alive. Can we focus on finding this otter?"

Judy sighed slowly. "I gave you twenty-four hours, didn't I?"

"You did. And I can't thank you enough for giving me a second chance." He squinted thoughtfully as he took a turn. "Or would this be my third...?"

"Whatever. Point being, we're working together on this. Just don't expect me to stick around afterwards."

"Sure." He paused. "Although – not to add insult to injury, but – whether or not you stick around is kinda out of your hands, given that, as we have already established, you are almost definitely going to jail."

"Almost definitely..."

"But that's a concern for later, I guess," said Nick, pulling into a parking lot. "For the moment, we're here."

It was a dirty apartment block hanging nervously over a bad neighbourhood. A faded sign declared the building to be 'Tudyk Heights' – or rather it would have, if a gang of local teenagers hadn't recently undertaken an unofficial rebranding campaign with a considerably more vulgar moniker.

Nick parked as close to the front door as possible, but with multiple cars in the lot he was still a few spaces down. "Stay here a sec," he said, undoing his seatbelt. "I'll give you a signal when the way's clear." Judy grunted.

He left the car and headed for the door, expecting the worst. But someone had propped the door open with a metal pipe – probably a resident looking for a smoke break. Nick glanced around for police, but there was no-one around.

He wandered back to the car and Judy slipped out. She had her helmet back on. Nick wondered if the handkerchief around her ear made it harder to put on, but he decided against asking.

He ensured the car was locked. His mother trusted him with it, and the last thing he wanted was for some petty thief to steal it. Then he sauntered back to the door, as Judy kept low, using the other parked cars as cover. He entered, and she followed.

"We got lucky," he noted, nodding to the pipe. "And here I was, ready to pick the lock."

Judy scoffed. "With what, Slick? Your tail?"

Flicking his wrist like a stage magician, Nick produced a pair of pliers and a pink paperclip from his pocket. "This is all you need," he said proudly. "If you know what you're doing."

She shrugged. "I'm really more of a kick-the-door-down kind of girl."

"Yeah. I noticed."

The elevator was broken – as it had been when Nick had last been here, more than three years earlier – so they took the stairs to the second floor. The carpet was dirty and the walls were all beige. They came to the corridor with Weaselton's apartment. Nick signalled Judy to wait by the corner. She folded her arms, looking around.

Nick strode up to the right door, adjusting his tie with an air of relaxed disinterest. He got into character with ease. Part of him wondered if he could somehow monetize helping vigilantes.

He knocked lightly. "Hey, Duke of Bootleg! It's Wilde. You in there? Got some business to discuss."

He expected an immediate response. Duke was cagey, but he was always looking out for new 'business opportunities'. Nick had phrased his greeting deliberately. Technically, it _was_ business. Just not his.

A few seconds of uncharacteristic silence passed. Nick rolled his eyes. "Wake up, you mangy –!"

He banged on the door and it swung open.

He tensed. "Podunk!" She was already moving close, fast but quiet. Together they surveyed the apartment from the doorway.

It was a warzone. From previously having the displeasure of visiting this apartment, Nick knew it was never quite in the same neighbourhood as 'clean'. But there was a difference between squalor and... this. Furniture was overturned. Glasses lay shattered.

Scratch marks in the walls.

The main area, the living room, was completely trashed. To the right, the door to Weaselton's bedroom hung open. It looked to be in a similar state.

"Hopps, no, don't–!"

But Judy was already moving, taking in the damage. She passed the thoroughly filthy coffee table in the centre of the room, one of the few things that remained upright. Several items lay around the sides, as though knocked off.

She walked to the opposite wall. The window, singular, was still open. She glanced outside, noting the fire escape – she had made a recent habit of noting fire escapes – then looked up. An abandoned office block was directly across the street. She frowned at it thoughtfully.

Nick resigned himself to the fact they were going to investigate the apartment. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. They didn't need the attention of any neighbours.

"What... do you think happened here?"

Judy turned to him. "I don't know. But whatever it was, seems like Weaselton was the victim. Do you know anyone who might hold a grudge against him?"

Nick scoffed, sidestepping a broken lamp. "The line starts with me and goes around the block. Twice."

"So no obvious leads there..." Judy left the window, heading for the bedroom. "Keep your eyes open."

"Uh, sure." Nick followed her, almost absently. "And, just to clarify, what I am looking for? We don't all have police training, remember."

"His phone, if it's here. See who he's been in recent contact with."

She stopped at the foot of bed, Nick just behind her. There was a lot of junk on Weaselton's rickety bedside table, but no phone – despite the phone charger plugged into the nearby socket.

Judy tapped her fingers against the chin of her helmet. "Hmm."

"What is it?"

"Do you think it's possible someone _took_ –"

She stopped suddenly, her ears high. Nick felt a rush of fear. "What? What is it?"

"Someone's in the hall," she whispered.

Nick relaxed. Or tried to. "You're paranoid, Podunk. Hard as it is to believe, other people live here too."

Judy didn't reply.

Footsteps. Two mammals, mid-sized. Getting closer.

Loose keys jangling. Into the lock.

The front door openi–

Nick was already moving, silently swinging the bedroom door closed. The intruders, whoever they were, didn't seem to notice. Their conversation continued.

"I'm just saying, when Leo hired us–"

"Please don't call him 'Leo'."

"Come on, he's not here. And, look – he told us to lock them up. Secure, contain, protect. We're good at that stuff! But we are _not_ good at investigating. Or I'm not, at least. What're we supposed to do here...?"

"I know, I know. But he's worried, alright? The Doc's doing her best, but her team still doesn't know what the hell this is. And it's not stopping. If we can find anything that can help..."

"Right. Sure."  
  
They were moving around in the living room. The front door was blocked. Nick and Judy shared a look.  
  
" _We need to get out,_ " mouthed Nick silently.

Judy's head bobbled slightly.

" _I can't see your mouth!_ " Nick yelled. Silently.

Judy shrugged angrily, then pointed to the bedroom window. It was small, but if opened they could both fit through to the fire escape. Nick nodded. They made their way over, carefully picking through the garbage strewn around the bed.  
  
The sounds of movement from the living room abruptly halved. "Hey, Gary? ...Do you smell that?"

"Uh, I'm gonna need you to be a lot more specific. This place is a dump. Smell what?"

"Not what. Who. I think there's somebody else in here."

Nick's eyes widened. He saw Judy tense. They both sped up, still desperately trying to remain silent.

Nick made it to the window, got his paws on the bottom of the frame, pulled up – and nothing happened. It was locked.

" _You're kidding!_ " He glanced to Judy. " _Gimme a second!_ " Judy nodded, turning her attention towards the door as Nick fumbled for the paperclip and pliers.

"Come on, I need you to confirm it. You've always had the better nose."

"Wow. You... you really think so?"

" _Yes_ , I think so. Now could you just go ahead and use it?"

"Yeah yeah, sure sure. It's just..."

The paperclip was shaking in Nick's hand. He hadn't picked a lock in years. He hadn't needed to. He was, in fact, not entirely sure of what he was doing. But he kept focused, trying to block out the conversation from the next room.

"What?"

"You don't compliment me a lot, is all."

"You... I'm sorry, what? Is that a big concern for you?"

"Well, yeah! Your opinion means a lot to me, but you don't... say much. You're usually all business. 'Gary, smell this'. 'Gary, pay attention'. 'Gary, don't put that in your mouth'."

A laugh. "Well, someone's gotta keep you focused, you big goof!" A pause. "I, uh... I'm sorry if I come off as harsh."

 _Click!_ The lock came undone. Nick took a second to breathe. Then he quickly pocketed his tools, moving to open the window.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. You mean a lot to me too. I guess I thought you knew that without me saying it out loud, but... I'll try to be clearer in future. If that's what you want."

"Awh! Larry, you're the bes–"

 **SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKIK.**

The window hadn't been opened in a long time. Possibly years. It screamed its displeasure shrilly.

Nick tensed. So did Judy.

Outside there was a pause.

"...Yeah I think someone else is here."

"No kidding. **Hey!** Who's in there?! Show yourself, now!"

Judy ran for the door and before Nick could yell her name she was already kicking it open.

The two intruders had made the mistake of getting too close to the door. When it flew open it caught them both, knocking them to the floor. Judy landed, taking them in quickly. Two wolves, both in heavy black coats. One bright white with brown eyes, the other dark grey with piercing blue. Both very surprised.

Judy's stance stayed firm. "Who are you?! What do you know of the missing mammals?!"

"Huh," said the white wolf. "I feel like we should ask yo–"

His partner pounced.

He was fast, catching Judy by surprise. Before she could react he was twisting her face into the floor, a firm grip on her neck and both her wrists. He knew what he was doing. "Gary! Dart her!"

"On it!"

Nick stared. The window was open. If he moved now, he could squeeze through to the fire escape. Hit the ground in a minute. Drive away in three.

The breeze ruffled his fur, inviting him to run.

He ran.

Just not in the direction that made sense.

It took him a second to process that he was charging towards the white wolf. It was too late to stop. May as well try to do it right.

The wolf had drawn a pistol but before he could fire it Nick slammed into him. It was inelegant, barely a tackle, but it worked. He fell back, caught off guard.

His partner looked up – and Judy seized the opportunity, pulling her feet in and then kicking him in the chest. He coughed, his grip slackening, and she wriggled free and stood.

The white wolf almost tripped over Weaselton's coffee table, but he recovered quickly, pulling his pistol up and training it on Nick's face.

Nick froze.

Judy was moving before the gun fired. A tranquillizer dart left the barrel but she was already there, tackling Nick and pushing him to safety. The dart connected with her helmet and bounced off harmlessly.

They fell together, Judy practically shoving him behind an overturned armchair. "Get down and stay down," she growled. "I won't be long." Nick just blinked. Then he nodded.

The wolf was frowning at his pistol. "Dang it! Now I have to –" and Judy leapt towards him and cracked her knee into his jaw. "Ow!" he yelped. "That's my face!"

The other wolf rose up with a furious snarl and grabbed her. He flung her into the back wall, then turned to his partner. "You alright?"

"Yeah! Yeah. I'm fine, don't worry."

"Good. Lock down the fox. I'll deal with the rabbit."

The impact barely phased Judy – she landed on her feet and ran forward, planting herself in front of the wolves. "Eyes on me!" she yelled, tiny fists raised into tiny dukes. "I can take you both, no problem!"

The wolves stopped. They shared a nod. The white wolf grew serious.

An instant later, they fell upon her.

Nick watched in horror. It was brutal. Suddenly Judy wasn't fighting two wolves; she was fighting one wolf with eight limbs. Everything they did, they did with military – mechanical – precision. Kicks were followed by jabs were followed by elbows were followed by more kicks.

Judy fought back, screaming her defiance, but their defence was impenetrable. If she managed to grab hold of one, the other would tear her off. And they stayed on her. Close. Giving her no room to build momentum for her kicks.

Nick felt a lump form in his throat. Judy was fighting, protecting him, weathering blow after blow, and he was just sitting there. He should've known things would get violent. Around Judy, they always did. And this was his plan? Hiding on the sidelines with his tail twitching in terror?

Judy held out admirably, but working in tandem, the wolves had the edge. Her eyes were on the dark wolf, but his motions were a flawless feint – covering for his partner as he flew in with a kick.

His foot caught Judy in chest and she doubled up. Instantly the dark wolf slammed an elbow into her back, knocking her into the floor. The white wolf pounced and pinned her.

It was over.

The wolves caught their breath. "Good work, Gary."

"Thanks! You too!"

"Hold her steady. I'll sedate her."

Nick stood.

Pushing aside his fear, ignoring his leaden stomach and shaking limbs, he leapt for the dark wolf's back. He latched on and wrapped his arm around the wolf's throat. His feet came to the back of the wolf's knees and Nick put on as much pressure as he could.

He was improvising, but it worked. The wolf reared, trying to maintain his balance.

"Larry!" The white wolf looked concerned, but he didn't take his paws off Judy. "Do you need help?"

"I'm – fine," he spat. He was trying to pry Nick's arm off. His grip was like iron – but Nick's was stronger, surging with fear and determination and no small amount of regret. Letting out a growl, the wolf changed tactics suddenly. Without warning he threw himself backwards, intentionally falling into the coffee table – and forcing Nick to take most of the impact.

The table broke under them.

Nick lay among the splinters, too stunned to suppress a groan of pain. He'd had worse. Much worse. But the pain was blunt and strong and wide, and for a moment he just lay there.

The wolf recovered immediately, getting to his feet. His partner stared at the shattered table. "Wow, Larry, that–"

Judy kicked him in the face.

It wasn't much – she had only managed to get one leg free – but it was enough to loosen his grip completely. She sprang to her feet and slammed into the other wolf.

He fell back, then growled, moving to grab her. Judy dodged out of the way, then turned on her heel and kicked the first again before he could recover. Then she retreated towards the front door, keeping her distance from both. Watching carefully.

Larry helped Gary stand. "Still okay?"

"Still okay! And you?"

"Fine. Take point. Manoeuvre Six."

"Got it!"

The white wolf stalked toward Judy, then suddenly sprinted for her. Nick watched as they fought – and the dark wolf turned suddenly to him.

Blue eyes locking on his.

A thrill of fear ran through him, finally pushing him to move, but it came too late. The wolf was already reaching for him. Nick tried to kick out, but the mercenary just grabbed his ankle and pulled him closer.

Before Nick could get free, the wolf twisted him into a tight hold, holding him by the throat with Nick's back pressed against his chest. Then he drew his pistol.

Judy knocked the white wolf into the wall. He fell with a yelp. She turned in time to see the gun reach Nick's neck.

The wolf's voice was hard. "Stop. Now."

Judy stopped – then tilted her head. "That's just a tranq dart."

"'Just' nothing," he said. "You know anything about tranquillizers? They're dangerous. Every dosage needs to be exactly balanced for the target. Not enough, it doesn't work. Too much, and, well... it's _permanent_. Every dart is a calculated risk." He pressed the gun harder into Nick's neck. Nick could do nothing except close his eyes and try to manage his breathing. "If you don't surrender right now, I'm gonna give him _three_."

Judy froze. Then her stance hardened. "Drop him."

"You aren't in a position to make demands. I am." His eyes narrowed. "Your choice, rabbit. Give up now, or I put your boyfriend down for a nap he's not waking up from."

Nick kept his eyes screwed shut. His voice was hoarse. "Hopps. Please. Don't do anything stupid." He tried to laugh, but it came out as little more than a pant. "I know – I know that's hard for you, h-hah..."

Judy bit her lip – out of concentration, _purely_ out of concentration, not because it was trembling. The other wolf had recovered. She could sense how he hovered behind her. Watching.

No options.

She exhaled slowly. Then, carefully, she raised her hands and got on her knees.

"Good choice. You made the right decision." He watched her warily. "Helmet off."

Judy bit back a growl. But his grip on Nick hadn't loosened. She slid her helmet off and dropped it, letting the clatter of the impact hang in the air. She glared, purple eyes burning.

Still holding Nick tightly, the wolf levelled his gun at her exposed neck. "Don't worry. One dart should be perfectly safe for a rabbit."

He fired.


	9. Red Meat Rhetoric

"But sir–!"

"But _**nothing**_ , Clawhauser! I don't want to hear any excuses! How is it that my so-called 'finest officers' can't find a single rabbit in a bright. Red! **Costume?!** "

"Chief, please, try to stay calm! Your blood pressure–"

"Is **not** your concern! ...I swear, this entire department is falling apart. Patrols, GPS, traffic cameras? All with nothing?!"

"As... as of yet, sir, no. But I'm sure, with just a little more time...!"

"Just where the hell is she?"

* * *

Judy opened her eyes. She could see nothing.

Her mouth felt dry. There was a dull throbbing in her neck and her muscles felt weird. Heavy.

She was blindfolded, and her helmet was gone. It felt like her belt, chest piece and wristguards were also missing, leaving just the suit. But they hadn't taken the handkerchief off of her ear. That was something.

Judy pushed herself into moving, testing what she could feel. She was on a chair. Her wrists were tied behind her back, her ankles similarly bound, and a broader length of rope was around her stomach. But her fingers could feel something... furry?

"Oh, Podunk. You're up."

Nick. Directly behind her. They were tied together, but on two different chairs. Back to back.

"Uh, hey." She was hoarse. She cleared her throat. "You okay?"

"Still here. You?"

"I've been better. Hopefully that tranquillizer isn't too lasting." Her ears were high, desperate for information. "What happened? Were there any developments while I was unconscious?"

"You say that so casually..." His tone wasn't joking. He just sounded tired. "No. They left us in this room as soon as we got here. That was a while ago. It's been quiet."

She shook her head. She needed water. "So, I don't suppose you have any idea where we are...?"

"Meadowlands. Outskirts of town. On the river." His voice was steady. Quiet. "Dunno for sure, but I'd guess we're in Cliffside. Spooky abandoned hospital. People don't like to talk about it. Makes for a decent secret base, I guess."

Judy blinked. "I... didn't expect you to know."

"Hmm."

"How did you...?"

He sighed. "Well... they tranq'd you, obviously. Weren't going to take the risk of moving you while you were awake. But I managed to talk my way out of that." He chuckled. It was hollow, utterly devoid of humour. "Well. No. I didn't need to do much convincing. My performance in that 'fight' spoke for itself."

Judy wasn't sure what to say, so she settled for a tentative "Uh, yeah."

"So. Before bringing me to their truck, they blindfolded me and put me in these noise-cancelling headphone things. Didn't try to block my nose, but I didn't get much beyond wolf sweat anyway. I just kept track of the streets. What turns we made, how long we went in one direction, that stuff. Wasn't hard."

"Wow. Okay... Good job."

He went silent. Judy waited for something more, but nothing came. She turned her attention to her restraints, already working on an escape plan. Then, Nick's voice. Louder now.

"Hopps."

"Yeah?"

"You took a bullet for me."

Judy paused. Something about his tone was off. It wasn't gratitude. It wasn't amazement. If anything, he sounded... upset.

"It was just a dart."

"But you didn't _know_ that, did you?" His voice was firm. "The first guy. He tried to shoot me, you pushed me out of the way. I heard it hit your helmet. If it wasn't a dart, you'd be... You'd..."

There was a pause as Nick took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"It's not!" His voice cracked, and he coughed. "It's not. I know you'll never forgive me. And I don't blame you. I wouldn't forgive me either. But it's not just what I did. It's what I..." Another pause. "It's what I couldn't do, too. I'm... sorry I thought I could be useful. I'm sorry I wasted your time. And I'm so sorry that... you had a chance to just leave, but I made you stay. Guilted you into continuing. And now we're both gonna die here. Just a useless con-man and an innocent rabbit he kept _screwing_ over. Even when I'm trying, _really_ trying, I always... I just..." She heard him take another breath. Shaky. Uneven.

Judy frowned into the darkness.

"...Are you crying?"

"No!" Fast. Forceful.

"Okay," she said evenly. "It's... it would be fine. If you were."

"I'm _not_."

"Sure. Sure." She took a breath, focusing herself. "Well, listen. They haven't killed us yet, right? That means they probably want something. We're not dead yet. So try to pull yourself together, okay?"

He didn't reply at first. Then, "Okay. I'll try."

"Good. Just stay calm. I'll think of something." She thought for a moment. " _We'll_ think of something. Alright?"

"...Yeah. Yeah."

Judy strained against the ropes. The bindings were strong and precise – whoever captured them really knew about knots – but there was definitely some give. The thick rope keeping her and Nick together was particularly weak.

"This setup seems ramshackle," she noted. "They must not be used to taking hostages like this. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm sitting on your tail."

"Yeah," choked Nick. "You are."

Judy began to slowly push her ankles apart. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, surely, she felt it as the rope began to succumb to what slight pressure she could muster.

"Excellent!" She began to do the same for her wrists. "With some time, I can get loose. Then we'll work on getting out of here."

"Hopps, I really don't think–"

The door opened.

Even through the blindfold, Judy sensed the room get brighter. They had been left in the dark. But she focused on what she could hear. The door closing. Two mammals stepping inside.

Them. The partners.

"Listen carefully," said a voice. Curt and businesslike. "You are currently being held in a highly secure location. It is in your best interests to co-operate. Tell us everything you know, and this will go smoothly. You have no chance of escaping. We have confiscated all of your equipment, including your cellphones."

"Also," said another voice, through what sounded suspiciously like a full mouth, "your doughnuts."

At the mention of her phone, Judy was struck by an idea. Giving the ZPD her location was dangerous, and liable to get her arrested. But she had already made peace with how her arrest was unavoidable. Mostly, at that moment, she just wanted to do anything to spite these damn wolves.

Making her voice wobble, she choked out a sob. "Please – _please_ – could you check if my phone has any messages? My mom, she's – she's very sick. Please. I'll tell you anything, just – just, a minute of your time...!"

"No," said the voice.

There was a panicked cough, and Judy felt a small cloud of sugar settle on her head. "Oh my god!" choked his partner. "Larry, how could you–?!"

"We won't be doing that," said the first voice, firmly, "because your phone was off when we apprehended you. You're not waiting on news. You're hiding your GPS signal, presumably from the ZPD. And if we _turned it on_ ," he continued slowly, "they would know our location, _Gary_."

"Oh," said the other. "Ohhhhhh! Sneaky."

"Good try, Hopps," murmured Nick. "For what it's worth, that was really impressive. You had _me_ convinced." Judy ignored him.

Instead, she dropped the act, letting out her anger. "Who are you people?!"

"Suffice to say," said the first voice, "we represent a group of mammals who have been trying to deal with a very dangerous problem. And we discovered _you_ illegally trespassing in the home of a recent victim."

Judy growled – still applying pressure to her bonds. Subtly. "You were trespassing too! You aren't legitimate law enforcement agents!"

"True," said the voice. "But we nonetheless have the safety of the city as our goal."

"Yeah," said the second voice. "So telling us what you know would really help everybody."

"If we co-operate, will you release us?" asked Judy. She wasn't considering it – her feet were almost free. She just needed to buy a bit more time.

"We can't guarantee that. We operate at a very high level of discretion. But if you comply, we–"

"We'll talk," said Nick morosely.

"Good." Judy felt a brush of air as someone walked past her, moving toward Nick's chair. Only one, though. She sensed the other wolf was still in front of her.

But he was clearly distracted, paying attention to Nick instead of her. Her bonds were loose enough now. She just needed an opening.

"I just want to go home, man," Nick was saying. "I... I need to get back to my mom."

The voice chuckled darkly. "You guys sure love your mothers, don't you?"

"Oh, be nice," said the other voice. Judy loosened her hands. "I think it's sweet!" She loosened her feet. "I mean, at the end of the day, we're all somebody's kid, right?" She ripped off her blindfold and cracked her forehead into the wolf's nose.

He let out a sharp whine, the half-empty box of doughnuts clattering from his paws. His partner tensed but Judy was already moving, wriggling free of the chair and slipping to the ground.

"Hopps?!" Nick's ears shot up, his fear obvious despite his blindfold. "What's happening?"

He wasn't going anywhere. He hadn't even tried to break his restraints. Judy suppressed a grunt of annoyance. Why did she have to do _everything?_

If she was going to escape, that meant taking Nick with her. That, in turn, meant undoing his bindings, which in turn entailed dealing with the furious wolf bearing down on her.

Fine.

She dodged the dark wolf's lunge, then slammed her shoulder into him with all her weight. He hit the chair and fell backwards.

She knew how they fought now. She had to keep them separated, stop them from building synergy. If she was able to move fast and hit hard enough, she might even be able to turn their obvious concern for each other into an advantage.

The white wolf forced himself to recover, reaching out to grab her. Judy feinted, successfully, then dove in and slammed both feet into his torso.

"Ow!" he wheezed. "That's my stomach!"

She left him on the floor and turned to Nick, thrashing helplessly in his chair. She hissed a sigh, moving in close and working his ropes. "C'mon, idiot, we gotta move!"

"Idiot?!" he yelped. "Who's the idiot here?! You don't have a plan!"

The dark wolf leapt up, grabbing Judy from behind. "You're _both_ idiots if you think you–" Judy cracked her head into his sensitive nose and he released her with a muted whine.

She turned her attention back to Nick's restraints, but before she could make any progress her ears caught a sound. Door handle. Someone was coming. Reinforcements.

More trouble for her to deal with.

Letting out a battle cry, she turned on her heel and sprinted for the door. She coiled power into her legs, leapt up as the door opened, twisted herself in mid-air –

and found herself hurtling towards the red of Mayor Lionheart's tie.

Judy's eyes widened and the first coherent thought she formed was " _oh my god City Hall_ _ **is**_ _kidnapping these people_ "

Then she collided with his chest.

He was solid, and she bounced off. As she landed on the floor, gracelessly, her ears picked up multiple electric whines from nearby. There were two more wolf guards with Lionheart, each with a shock pistol, as well as a honey badger armed with nothing but a clipboard. She looked nervous. The wolves didn't. They had instantly trained their guns on her. Her escape attempt was over. Though now, she was more concerned with getting answers.

Lionheart was taken aback, understandably, but he recovered. He took Judy by the back of the collar and held her aloft like a dirty tissue. After squinting at her for a few seconds, he turned to address the room. "People. What the hell is this?"

Gary waved a hand, still wheezing. "I'm sorry sir, I tried to stop her... she is _super_ bouncy..."

"Ah," said Lionheart. "So she _bounced_ past all of our security and right into the middle of our clandestine operation? Is that it?"

"Actually, sir," said Larry, "we brought them here."

Lionheart's eyes burned coldly. "Oh. I _see_." His gaze lingered on Larry, long enough for the wolf to start to shrink. Then he looked back to Judy. Backlit from the light in the corridor, he was even more imposing than usual.

"Um... hello." She spoke with as much dignity as she could muster with all four limbs limply dangling in the air. "I'm Judy Hopps. Do you rememb–"

"Of _course_ I remember you!" snapped Lionheart, letting her drop to the ground. "You were one of my crowning political achievements. First police graduate of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative goes and becomes valedictorian. I was so proud." He folded his arms. "Then you somehow got yourself fired your first week like a complete idiot. You ever stop to think how bad that looked for _me?_ "

"Honestly," said Judy, "no. I did not."

"Um, excuse me?"

The room's attention turned to Nick. Still blindfolded. Still tied to a chair. Still facing the complete opposite direction from the doorway.

"I'm part of this conversation too, y'know. But right now I feel a little... isolated."

Lionheart's brow furrowed. "You seem familiar. Have we met?"

"Long time ago. I wouldn't blame you for forgetting." Nick cleared his throat. "Nick Wilde? Son of Marian and, uh... John?"

Lionheart's face flickered with recollection. "Ah, yes. John Wilde's boy. That adds up, I suppose." He turned to Larry. "Untie him."

"Sir."

"What _doesn't_ add up," he continued, "is what the hell you two are doing here."

Larry turned to speak as he undid Nick's bindings. "We discovered them in Weaselton's apartment, sir. We overpowered them, and I believed it best to interrogate them. I was concerned they posed a threat to the operation."

Lionheart glared. "Well they do _now_ , genius! They know I'm involved!"

Larry kept his eyes low. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think–"

"That's right, you didn't."

Larry winced painfully, his ears flat. Gary drew in, silently squeezing his shoulder.

Lionheart turned his attention back to Judy, eyes narrow. "Well, out with it, Hopps. Anything you'd like to _share_ with the class?"

There was no point withholding information. Not any more. If Lionheart was in charge here, she needed to hear his side of things. That meant sharing her own. Opening a dialogue.

Politics.

She sighed, then squared herself up, meeting his gaze. "Ever since losing my job, I've stayed busy. Kept trying to help the community, with or without official support."

"I'm aware," said Lionheart testily. "I've heard reports of your little night-time excursions. Wandering the streets, getting into fights, taking on the _mob_..."

"Oh man, that's awesome," breathed Gary.

"No, Hopps, my question is: why Weaselton? How are you involved?"

"I've been searching for the missing mammals. Nick has been helping me." Her eyelids lowered. "More or less."

Nick, now hovering behind Judy, gave Lionheart a nervous wave.

"Well, you've come to the right place," said Lionheart, shifting his hands to his hips. "Under this roof is every poor bastard who's gone off-the-rails crazy. We've been keeping them off the streets – quietly – since they're a threat to themselves and others."

Judy's brow twitched. "So it _was_ you. You're the reason there's been an epidemic of missing mammals. Because you've been hiding them!"

"Yeah. We have."

"That's...!" She fumed. "Sir, a man's _wife_ –"

"Is better off _not knowing_ ," said Lionheart forcefully, "if her husband has gone wacko for no goddamn reason." He sighed angrily through his nose. "We haven't cracked the _why_. We still don't know what this is."

"I might," said Judy darkly. "I've heard reports that an... afflicted individual, just before going ' _missing_ ', attacked another person who then also disappeared. Sir..." She drew herself up, summoning as much gravitas as she could. "I believe it's a pathogen. Spread from predator to predator via physical wounds. And if we don't –"

"No it isn't," said Lionheart.

Judy faltered. "What?"

"Yeah, no. Not a disease." He turned to address the honey badger. "Right, doc? That's one of the few things we _have_ ruled out?"

"Yes, sir."

Judy frowned. "But... it's contagious."

"I've personally dealt with every injury incurred during this operation," said the doctor. "Most of them happened weeks ago, during the first few retrievals. If it _was_ an infectious disease, the symptoms would've manifested by now. There's been nothing of the sort."

"Yeah!" said Gary cheerfully. "I've got bitten and scratched lots of times, and I'm fine."

"For a given value of 'fine'," muttered Larry.

"Oh, hush."

" _Both_ of you keep **quiet!** " yelled Lionheart suddenly. The two wolves snapped to attention, eyes forward. Lionheart looked back to Judy. "Hopps. Judy Hopps, the former valedictorian. Just here to make the world a better place."

Judy didn't reply. She met his gaze calmly.

His eyes moved to Nick. "And you..." He said nothing else. His mind was working, but he didn't give voice to his thoughts.

Finally, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Okay. Here's the good news. I don't _trust_ you, not yet, but under proper supervision I don't see how you could make things any worse. We won't hurt you. You can stay."

"That is good news," murmured Nick, watching as the wolves lowered their pistols.

" _But_ ," spat Lionheart, jabbing a finger, "you've learned way too much about this operation to walk free. I can't risk you jeopardising our security, even unintentionally. So you aren't going anywhere. Let me be clear. When I say 'you can stay', it's _not an option_."

Nick and Judy glanced around. None of the facial expressions around them had changed. Larry still looked suspicious. The doctor still looked anxious. The other wolves still looked wary, with the exception of Gary, whose absent-minded smile had returned.

"I suppose that's fair," said Judy finally.

"You're damn right it's fair," said Lionheart. "You won't be getting your phones back, and Lawrence and Geralt will keep an eye on you at all times."

Nick frowned. "And they would be...?"

"That's us," said the dark wolf.

"But the guys call us Gary and Larry!" said the white wolf cheerfully. "Just a fun nickname thing that came up one time. It was after–"

"Not the time, Gary," muttered Larry.

"Right, sorry."

"Read the room."

Lionheart straightened his tie. "Well, I'm glad that's settled. Obviously we have a lot to discuss, but that'll have to wait. You caught me on my way out the door. I need to get back to City Hall. Meeting I can't skip. Believe me, I tried."

Judy stared. "Are – are you serious?"

"I know, right?! It's Saturday! What kind of idiot schedules a Herds and Grazing meeting on a _Saturday?_ I'll tell you, my useless assistant, that's who. I'll be back after Gazelle's dumb concert. Gotta make an appearance. Ciao."

Lionheart turned, brushed past the doctor, and strode down the corridor. For a moment, Judy faltered.

Then, before anyone could stop her, she ran forward, scampered through Lionheart's legs, and planted herself in his path.

Lionheart glared, his balance upset. "Watch it!"

Judy took a breath. "Sir. Why did you never reinstate me to the ZPD?

His brow wrinkled. "Why did I never what to the who now?"

"Assistant Mayor Bellwether said..."

"Ah," he said, holding up a finger. "There's your problem. Bellwether is constantly coming to me with useless little projects. You must've gotten lost in the pile. Sorry, Hopps. I'm a busy mammal. Nothing personal."

Judy's voice was quiet. "That's it...?"

"That's it. Now, if you'll _excuse_ me..."

Lionheart stepped around her, disappearing around a corner. Like that, he was gone.

The other wolf guards left, but kept their eyes on Judy. Her show of defiance hadn't done her any favours.

Nick felt the two wolves hovering behind him. He repressed a sigh. Apparently, he would need to get used to that sensation.

He turned, coolly meeting Larry's gaze. The wolf seemed smaller now. More like an actual person. Lionheart's anger had obviously knocked him down a peg.

Gary nudged him, and he cleared his throat. "Uh, I'd like to... apologise. For... threatening to kill you."

Nick glared. "It's cool," he said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Gary beamed, slapping Larry's arm. "See? Told you he'd be fine if you said sorry." Larry sagged.

Judy walked up. "Great. We're stuck here for the time being. What now?"

"Well, I have an idea," said Gary.

She glared. "And what's that? Board games, maybe? Watch a movie? Just hang out a little, get to know the people who _kidnapped_ us?"

"Well, that sounds nice," he said levelly, "but I was thinking about bringing you to the guy you've been searching for."

Judy's anger dissipated in an instant. "Wait, really?"

"Sure! He's just downstairs. I can take you." He turned to Larry, smiling nervously. "Right? I can take her there, can't I?"

His partner seemed displeased. "Why?"

Gary's brown eyes were soft. "I just think she'd be more relaxed if she got to see he was here. Knew we weren't lying, y'know?"

Larry considered this for a moment. "Fine," he said. "But it's a bad idea to bring both of them in there at once. The fox stays here."

"Okay!"

"Whoa, hey, _not_ okay," said Nick. It was hard to be assertive to men who had illegally arrested him, but he dug deep. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"No," said Larry.

"Relax, Nick," said Judy calmly. "It's not a big deal."

"Sorry. It's just..." He glanced up at the wolves before turning to her. He didn't try to hide his discomfort. "I'm nervous about being separated, that's all."

"Don't worry, this'll be quick." She looked up to Gary. "...This will be quick, right?"

"Sure!"

"It better be," murmured Larry.

"There. See?" Judy gave Nick something vaguely approaching a smile. "I'll be right back."

"Well... you're the boss."

"Heck yeah I am."

"Be careful," called Larry, as Gary led her towards the door.

He grinned over his shoulder. "Don't worry, we will!"

Larry frowned. "With the rabbit, Gary."

"Oh. Yeah, that too."

He led Judy out of the room, past the doctor, who had been hovering by the doorway since Lionheart left. She drifted towards Nick, clutching her clipboard tightly.

"Excuse me, Mister Wilde? I'm Doctor Honey Badger." She pronounced 'honey badger' as a singular phrase; a species surname. Rarer these days, but not unheard of. "Could I have a moment of your time?"

Nick watched her calmly. Keeping his expression friendly, he said nothing. He was here under duress. If they expected him to be compliant and docile, they could take those expectations and shove them –

Then he felt Larry draw slightly closer to him and Nick remembered that he was technically a prisoner of a very determined group of mammals who would find things a lot easier if he was dead and the one person who could protect him had wandered out of the room to look at an otter.

Maybe co-operating wasn't the worst idea.

"Sure," he said quickly. "Yes, definitely, absolutely. What?"

"Would you mind submitting yourself to a brief medical exam? I'm not convinced by your partner's theory of a pathogen, but in our position we can never be too careful."

Nick tried to ignore the phrase _'your partner'_. He shrugged blandly. "Sure. Gotta do something until Carrots gets back."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I mean Podunk." He winced. Apparently he was more tired than he realized. "I _mean_... the rabbit. Hopps. Just... just take me."

"Of course. This way, please."

She set off down one of the dark corridors. Nick followed, Larry shadowing him. Closely.

They soon came to a nearby room, clearly functioning as an on-site clinic. Cliffside was a former hospital, so technically speaking every room had been intended for medical purposes. But this small room – a bed to one side, a counter with newish medical equipment, even a few posters on the walls – it was clean, welcoming. A room for the living, eked out of a graveyard.

Nick hopped onto the bed, swinging his legs. He watched as the doctor began gathering and preparing various medical props. Larry, meanwhile, didn't move far from the door. He leaned back against the counter, arms folded and eyes on Nick.

"So," said Nick conversationally. "...Secret mercenary operation, huh?"

"I'm afraid so," said the doctor, opening a drawer.

Nick kept his tone even and his eyes on a poster about how to properly wash one's paws. "So every time this disease or whatever drives somebody bonkers, you guys swoop in and bundle them into a black van before anyone gets a good look." He shrugged. "I mean, I guess you're getting results. If you've gotten away with it for weeks, I can't fault your method. But with so many missing persons cases... is this really the best approach?"

"Be quiet," said Larry.

"Hey, I'm just thinking out loud here. I get the secrecy, I do, but it's gotta come out some time, right?" He leaned back a little. "Wonder how Lionheart's popularity scores will look then."

The honey badger sighed. "Yeah, tell me about it. People have enough trouble trusting authority as it is. My niece, for instance. Real conspiracy theorist. If she caught wind of this, she would _flip_."

Nick, despite everything, smirked. "Well I'll be. That niece wouldn't happen to be a spirited young woman who usually answers to 'Honey', would she?"

The doctor blinked. "Uh, yes. That's right. You know her?"

"I know everybody." He shot a quick glare at Larry. "Everybody worth knowing, anyway." The wolf just met his gaze coolly.

Nick turned back to the doctor, rolling through his meticulous mental notes of who was related to whom.

"So if you're Honey's aunt, and you're still here in Zootopia instead of moving out to Greasepit like Aunt Mabel, and there's no, and I'm using Honey's exact phrasing here, 'gnarly scar' on your cheek from the gardening mishap that befell Aunt Martha, that would make you... Madge, right?"

She scoffed lightly, impressed. "Yes! That's... wow."

"It's not _'wow',"_ said Larry, standing taller. "It's suspicious. You're doing an excellent job of convincing me you're a spy."

It was Nick's turn to look unimpressed. "If I was a spy," he said slowly, "I wouldn't be admitting the intel I already know. Playing up the 'suffering everymammal dragged along accidentally' would loosen you up a lot better and get me much more information. As it happens, I am _not_ a spy, so I don't _care_ about getting information, and I'm content to sit here and chat to my new friend Madge until I'm allowed to go home."

Larry glared. "Lionheart has guaranteed your safety. For now. But I'm warning you, fox, if you don't drop this attitude –"

"What?!" snapped Nick. "You'll kill me? Go ahead! I'm sick of being afraid. You can do what you want to me, but I refuse to be bullied by a bunch of _murderers_."

Larry said nothing. Then he settled back against the counter, eyes on the door. "We aren't murderers," he muttered.

"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"For what it's worth, Mister Wilde," said Madge, "Lawrence is right. I proud to say there's been no fatalities since our operation began, either among our agents or the infected. I can vouch for that."

"Lionheart's strict orders," added Larry. "We bring them in alive or not at all. He still hopes we can fix them."

"We all do..." Madge murmured.

"That's great," snarled Nick, "but I guess that rule doesn't stretch to people like me, does it? Because I seem to recall how not so long ago, you had a _gun_ to my neck, telling my partner you were going to poison me to **death** if she didn't–"

"It wasn't loaded."

Nick stopped short, surprise sweeping in under his anger. "What?"

"Well, not exactly. Obviously, it was loaded. But only with one dart." He shrugged brusquely, eyes still to the side. "I was bluffing, genius. You were never in danger of dying."

Nick's eyes narrowed. "Right. Sure."

"It's true. I can show you the pistol if you're that sceptical. It only holds one round at a time. They're a pain to reload; that's why we didn't tranq you too."

" _And_ because tranquillizers are dangerous and only suitable for emergencies," said Madge firmly.

"And that," added Larry, giving her a sheepish glance. "Point being: I knew the rabbit would surrender. She wasn't going to let you get hurt."

Nick stared, not quite able to process this. "And what made you so sure?"

"It was obvious! Every time Gary or I went for you, she'd put herself in the way. Protect you." The wolf raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, she seemed a lot more worried about your safety than her own."

Nick's mouth tightened. "No. I'm sure that fancy coat makes you _think_ you're Sherlock Bones, but you've got no idea what you're talking about. She hates me. She's made that more than clear."

Larry shrugged. "I don't know your history. And I don't know what she's been telling you."

As Madge set to work with her stethoscope, the wolf's eyes wandered to the door.

"But personally? I find actions speak a lot louder than words."

* * *

Gary led her through the building, dark old corridors illuminated by lights that were too bright, too new. Judy studied him. He padded along, arms at his sides and paws hanging loosely. He seemed fairly at ease, strolling through the abandoned asylum as though it was any other workplace. Certainly more relaxed than the other wolves they would occasionally pass, who watched Judy with obvious distaste. An outsider. An anomaly. A potential threat.

Gary was different. He seemed to already see Judy on friendly terms. She wasn't sure what to make of that. But it would make it a lot easier to take him by surprise, knock him out with one quick blow...

She discarded those thoughts. She had gotten this far by embracing bad ideas, certainly, but it was generally helpful to have a _reason_. Sure, she could probably take Gary. She might even be able to somehow slip past all the other guards. But how could she leave without Nick?

...Practically speaking. She still needed his knowledge of the traffic cameras. Yes.

Instead, she allowed the bright wolf to bring her to a heavy steel door. A guard was standing to attention by its keypad.

She regarded them both with suspicion. "What's this?"

Gary smiled. "I'm giving Judy the grand tour. There's someone in here she has an appointment with."

She arched an eyebrow. "Sure that's a good idea, Gary?"

His smile became a wide grin. "Freya, you know I'm never sure _anything's_ a good idea!"

The wolf laughed. "Heh, I hear that." She relaxed, turning to enter a combination into the keypad. Judy blinked. She admittedly didn't know the workings of this operation, but it looked an awful lot to her like Gary had managed to get her access to somewhere she shouldn't be. Just by telling a joke.

The door swung open, revealing a darkened corridor. The sentry waved them through, then shut the door behind them.

Gary walked in calmly, but something about the room immediately set Judy on edge. When her eyes adjusted, she realized where they were.

Cells.

The savage mammals were here.

"Hey!" Gary whispered, trying to get her attention without disturbing the inmates. "Over here."

He was in front of a cell, just by the door. He gestured through the thick glass, and Judy looked inside.

The cell was new and sheen and medical, with both water facilities and a bed. On that bed – or rather halfway sprawled on it, sliding down the edge like a furry waterfall – was a weasel. Soundly asleep.

It had a few more holes in it now, but it was wearing the exact same unwashed white vest Duke Weaselton wore.

"There he is!" said Gary proudly. "The guy you've been looking for."

Judy blinked. "What? No! I wasn't looking for this idiot."

Gary's ears and expression both fell. "But... you were in his apartment."

Judy caught herself. "Okay, well, yes. I _was_ looking for him. But that was actually just to get clues to find somebody else. His name's Emmitt Otterton, his wife asked me to–"

"Oh, okay!" said Gary. "We got that guy, too. A few doors down – c'mon!"

"Wait, really?" But he was already moving. Judy hurried to catch up.

Gary led her to the right cell, and sure enough, there was the otter. It was pacing against the back wall, growling to itself. Still wearing green slacks.

"Hey, Mister Otterton," called Gary gently. "You have a visitor!"

The otter glanced up, light reflecting eerily off its orange eyes. It skittered up to them, baring its teeth furiously. It scratched its claws against the glass, giving Judy enough time to take in the matted fur, the twitching muscles, the complete lack of rational thought in its gaze. Then it turned tail, disappearing under the bed.

Judy stared into the cell. "I can't believe it," she said softly. "I've spent weeks looking for him. I lost my dream job for this. And..." She shook her head, despondent. "Is that... _thing_ even the man I was looking for? I can't bring him home to his wife like this..."

Gary seemed to remember something, his ear twitching uncomfortably. "Hey. Can I show you something?"

Still wary, Judy just nodded. He beckoned her to follow him down the hallway. They passed by walls of predators, some quietly suspicious of them, others vocal in their rage.

They came to a cell near the end of the corridor. Gary gestured into the darkness. "Judy, I want you to meet Randy. Randy, this is Judy Hopps, she–"

A grey wolf leapt from the darkness suddenly, throwing itself against the glass. Judy managed to keep her reaction fairly minimal, but she wasn't able to stop herself from flinching. The wolf glared at her. The pleasant golden hue of its eyes was completely undercut by the animal rage burning through them. The tattered remains of a white suit shirt still hung from its straining neck. Its lips were drawn back over its teeth, a feral snarl reverberating through the glass.

"Haha, you said it, Randy. Always so funny." Gary put on a big grin, but Judy could see it was strained. She could see the pain in his eyes.

Abruptly, he turned and headed back for the door. Judy followed him, having no desire to stay longer than she had to. They headed out of the cellblock and back the way they had came. Gary said nothing to the sentry.

He waited until they were out of her earshot before speaking. When he did, his voice was quiet. "Randy was the first."

"To go savage?"

"Yeah. He was..." He frowned, then rolled his shoulders slightly. "He _is_ one of Lionheart's bodyguards. One morning, he just went nuts. My cousin was there. Saw everything. Randy attacked Lionheart, like a... like..."

Judy brought her arms in against her chest, hugging herself. "I can't imagine what that must've been like."

"Yeah. Me neither." Gary shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "But Lionheart doesn't have to. He saw it. He lived it."

He stopped suddenly. He turned to her, but kept his eyes to the floor.

"Look, Judy, I know how we must seem to you. But we're just trying our best to deal with something really, really scary. Maybe it's wrong to keep it from the public – I feel terrible when I think of all the wives and husbands and kids and parents who we're not allowed to tell. But... I trust Leodore. We all do. He's always been good to us. So try not to judge him too harshly. Please?"

Judy took a deep breath, trying to order her thoughts. "Look, Gary... you don't mind me calling you 'Gary', right?"

He smiled, ears perking. "Not at all."

"I get what you're saying. This crisis needs to be dealt with. But this isn't right. Mr Otterton's wife – his _children_... they don't know where he is. They don't even know he's alive. Don't you understand how cruel it is to keep them in the dark?"

He wrung his paws. "I know, I know," he said, a slight whine in his voice. "And we're gonna tell them! As soon as we know what this is and how to fix it. But until then... Leo says telling the public would just cause a panic. We're pretty sure this is the only viable option. It's better this way."

"No, it's not." Judy felt her resolve harden. "The public, and these families, have a right to know the truth. Not to mention, what you're doing here is _grossly_ illegal. Especially if Mayor Lionheart of all people is the one pulling the strings." Her voice rose. "You can't just sneak around outside the law, doing whatever you want! Justifying yourselves by saying you're ' _pretty sure_ ' it's the right thing!"

He nodded. "Yeah, I get it. It all seems really shady. But..."

He said it innocently. There was nothing in his face, his tone, that was even remotely malicious. But it still sent a chill through Judy's gut. She just stared, unable to form a reply.

"...isn't that what you've been doing?"

* * *

 **[Oh, I've been dying to write this chapter! I love Lionheart and his boys. That's probably evident from how it's twice the regular length... Let's just go ahead and say I'm experimenting with my format. If you felt this was too long, let me know. But, uh, chapters aren't about to get any shorter. We've got four instalments left and a lot of kicks to chronicle.  
also there's a horrendous joke in this chapter but part of the fun was trying to slip it under the radar so that's all i'm saying]**


	10. Red Sky At Night

Bellwether's preferred plan fell through. Judy didn't bring down Lionheart's operation as originally hoped.

But she still witnessed its death first-hand.

Doug frowned through the windscreen of his truck. This stretch of the Meadowlands was as empty as Zootopia ever got, but it was sheep territory. It was frankly insulting Lionheart and his wolves had set up here. He changed gears roughly. It was time to move.

They had known Lionheart was impeding them from the start. The first mark had been Lionheart's bodyguard. Doug shot him personally. And it didn't even make the news.

Lionheart had filed a missing mammals report and quietly moved on. Bellwether had expected that. That first attack was mostly intended to leave him rattled. It was the ensuing targets who were going to splatter blood across the headlines.

Except they didn't.

When over a dozen darted predators only garnered a few vague murmurs from the public, it was clear someone was working against them. With so few potential candidates, and his proximity to the first target, Lionheart was obviously their secret opponent. Bellwether had underestimated him. She admitted that. But no more.

Doug's truck passed over a pothole. Roads out here weren't great. It made sense that Lionheart would hole up somewhere so isolated. Bellwether had actually discovered the location of Cliffside some time ago, but she didn't want to attack it herself. That was Judy's job. Or it had been.

Plans changed. Everything was riding on this concert. So there would be no silent brigade of wolves to sweep in and contain the carnage. Not tonight.

They had never taken any action this drastic. So far, their moves had all been subtle, calculated. Doug wouldn't question orders, but truthfully, he didn't like this. He preferred a slow, surgical approach.

Like, for instance, how they had dealt with their supplier. Weaselton was adequate in his role, but he needed to be removed from the operation. His mouth was too big, his questions too invasive. The fact he was also very, very irritating made it easier to cut him loose. Best of all, he was a pred – and a lowlife pred at that. A perfect target. Dosing him with the material he himself provided was efficient. Doug liked efficient.

It was also poetic. Not that Doug cared about poetry.

For once, instead of clearing out quickly, Doug had lingered to watch his work. He kept an eye on Weaselton's apartment, seeing those damn wolves show up like clockwork. They bundled the weasel into a net and left. They were in such a rush they didn't stop to grab his phone. That kind of shoddy work was why had never discovered Doug. He slipped into the apartment, claimed the phone himself, then returned to his position in the office block across the street.

Then Judy Hopps arrived.

She was smarter. She had almost spotted Doug – he had to hide from sight as she came to the window. But he witnessed the ensuing fight. Her and her lanky sidekick versus the two idiots.

Doug wondered if anyone in this city was on his level.

Now he was trundling towards the 'secret' base, with a selection of high-end equipment and two of his associates in tow. Woolter: the black sheep of the White family. Jesse: someone who became a lot less intimidating once one learned why he wore an eyepatch. They followed his truck in a nondescript black car.

Only one road led to Cliffside, and the high security presence meant they couldn't get too close. Doug parked outside the gate, an imposing structure of black metal and needlessly creepy statues. The car pulled up as Doug assembled his sniper rifle, his colleagues getting out.

Jesse stared up at the asylum with one wide eye. "So this is the place, huh?"

Doug didn't look up. "Footage from the traffic cameras and supply manifestos that aren't as well hidden as Lionheart thinks they are. Yes. This is the place."

Rifle ready, he put the scope to his eye and surveyed the defences.

"Well?" said Woolter.

"Pack of wolves," said Doug, earning mutters of disgust from his companions. "Two on the outer perimeter, manning a booth... five more by the main door. Probably more inside. But not too many. Operation like this would keep most of its security external."

"So, what? A dozen overall?"

"Sounds about right. For _wolves_." The rifle was almost perfectly still in Doug's hands. "But there could be more somewhere. So when we move, we move quickly. I don't like leaving something this important to you idiots, but I gotta be on the other side of town asap. I'll help you with the external security, but everybody inside is your problem. Got it?"

"Yeah, boss."

"Good. If we fail the approach, the ones at the outer booth will raise the alarm using..." Doug's stony expression faltered as he frowned into the scope. "The hell? Is that a _rotary_ phone? Seriously?"

"Huh," said Jesse. "I guess they're really scrounging whatever they can find, huh?"

"Seems like it. But don't underestimate them." Doug lowered the rifle. "They made it this far."

Woolter's brow furrowed. "Hey, didn't you say they have Whats-hername in there too? The rabbit who kicks people? What's the plan for her?"

"You're assuming they haven't executed her." Doug's tone didn't change. It never did. "This operation's precise, and it's run by _preds_. I guarantee she's already dead. It's what I would do."

"That's always your solution," said Jesse lamely. "Murder."

"Yes. It is." Doug's eyes were cold, as ever. "Something you might want to remember in case you screw this up."

Jesse gulped. "M–... message received, boss."

"No, seriously," pressed Woolter. "Lionheart's all about that inclusive hippie crap. He could have prey in there too."

"Yeah."

"So... we don't tag them with the blue stuff, right? That'd defeat the purpose."

"It would," agreed Doug. "But dose every pred you see, and I don't think that'll be a problem. Our employer wants no survivors. Make it look like the 'disease' spread to the doctors – everybody should either be savage or ripped to shreds. When you're done, leave no evidence you were here. If you can, make sure Lionheart's still implicated. That'd be helpful. But the priority is crippling his team."

He returned to the truck, retrieving some items. A second rifle, which he shoved into Jesse's arms. A cylindrical device and an ominous tube, which he handed to Woolter. A black box with multiple antennae, which he checked over briskly.

Jesse looked over, loading his rifle. "That's the... blocker thing, right?"

"Yes. Knocks out cellphones and internet within one hundred and fifty meters. Don't break it. It was expensive."

Doug glanced to Woolter, who had loaded the canister into his weapon.

"Ready?"

"Yep."

"And you?"

Jesse looked down the scope. He swallowed. "Yeah. Got the outpost in my sights. Wolf in the doorway."

"Copy that. As soon as I turn this thing on, we go."

There was silence for a moment. Not as any expression of remorse or sympathy; just a necessary pause as Doug ran through his mental checklist one last time. Everything in place. Time to move.

He flicked a switch on the blocker. "It's live." He hefted his rifle up and took aim. "Fire canister."

Woolter, hands steady, pulled the trigger on his gun. The tube shot upwards in an arc, silently sailing toward the asylum's front doors. "Looks clean!"

"Roger," said Doug. "Fire pellets."

He and Jesse both fired. Doug's shot was precise, nailing the outer sentry right in the neck, but Jesse's went wide. The pellet impacted against the outpost, leaving bright blue splattered on the wall.

The wolf's eyes widened, military instincts immediately pushing her to find cover – but before she could, Doug quickly trained his scope on her and fired a second shot. Right under her ear. She spun, fell, and joined her partner in writhing on the ground, her muscles twisting unnaturally.

"You suck at aiming," said Doug, irritation creeping into his monotone.

"Sorry boss, w-won't happen again."

"Mmh."

Meanwhile, the canister had almost arrived. The wolves noticed, pointing skyward, reaching for their radios to–

The tube exploded in a vivid blue cloud.

Doug watched through his scope as vague silhouettes twisted in the fog. All five guards affected. Inhaling. Succumbing.

Initial breach successful.

Doug dropped his rifle into the truck, then shoved the blocker into a black backpack. He exchanged that for Jesse's rifle, throwing it into his vehicle as well. "Gasmasks on and load your pistols. Like I said, no witnesses."

"Understood."

"Got it, boss!"

Without a word, Doug slammed his truck shut and moved for the driver's seat. Jesse noticed a flash of metal in his hand before he got in and drove off.

The two sheep fixed their gasmasks into place, Jesse ensuring his backpack was secure. "Was Doug holding an e-cigarette? I didn't know he vaped."

"He's addicted to foamy lattes," muttered Woolter. "It's a slippery slope."

* * *

Nick had never seen so many muzzles.

This operation was outfitted like a military unit in both the calibre and quantity of their equipment. Every room was put to use. He and Judy had been shoved into a nook at the front of the building, twilight drifting through the barred windows. The closest thing to a waiting room in the facility; it wasn't like they got a lot of guests.

And even here, there were boxes and boxes of muzzles.

"Nick?"

Of course they had muzzles. They were dealing with savage predators. Dangerous, unthinking threats. Monsters, almost. Monsters with teeth. Powerful jaws. So of course they had muzzles. It only made sense. But...

"...Nick?"

Did they feel it? Were the infected animals still aware of how _restrictive_ it felt, the crushing – the incomparable claustrophobia of – the way it pressed into your face, inescapable, overpowering your senses and the the the the

" _Nick!_ "

Nick started. He glanced around, eyes wide. When he saw Judy, sitting in the chair across from him, his heartrate levelled out. Slowly.

"Sorry. I was... thinking about something else." He coughed. "What's up?"

Judy's fingers worried the handkerchief around her ear, but her gaze didn't leave his face. "I've given it some thought. You can go home."

He blinked. "What?"

"Gotta hand it to Lionheart, this operation's impressive. It's gone weeks without anybody in the ZPD having any idea it exists. And from the looks of things, it can keep that up."

"So what you're saying is..."

"I could stay here. Work with them to stop this disease. Follow their lead to avoid the ZPD. Live in this dingy old hospital if I have to." She smiled weakly, gesturing to her red bodysuit. "They, uh, might ask me to switch back to black after all."

Nick felt his ears flatten. "...Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I can't guarantee anything, but maybe we can cut some kind of deal. Lionheart seems to think you're trustworthy." He expected her to make some crack about how that was obviously a mistake, but she stayed businesslike. Polite. "Maybe if I agree to work for him, and you agree to keep quiet, he'll let you leave? You could go home. Look after your mom. Sound good?"

It did sound good. Escape. Get as much distance from this deadly chaos as possible. Resume his old life. It wasn't much - quiet, lucrative misery - but it was his. Not this. This danger, this intrigue. This risk.

So, for once, he was surprised to feel nothing.

"No," he said. "You gave me twenty-four hours, and I'm not leaving before they're up. It's the least I can do."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not gonna force you into anything. If you're not comfortable with this, there's no shame in calling it quits."

He met her gaze. "Yes. There is."

Judy sighed quietly, unable to fight off a smile. "Well... that's the spirit."

They regarded each other for a moment, the silence warm. Nick felt himself relax a little. Maybe he was finally–

A chair creaked.

They both looked up. Across from them, sharing the small room, were their two chaperones. Larry was upright in his chair; arms folded, posture impeccable, eyes firm. Gary, meanwhile, was leaning forward, completely engaged in their conversation. His brown eyes were shining.

Judy cleared her throat. "Uh... You guys were listening to all that, huh?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Larry.

Gary laughed. "Ignore him! I think you're–"

Judy heard it first, her ears shooting up. Then Nick and the wolves caught it. Gary stood, expression darkening, and moved for the window.

"Oh my god...!"

They joined him, looking into the courtyard. The sentries were coughing violently, caught in a vague blue haze; vapour of some kind, already clearing. Nick was about to say something when one guard, tall and bulky, pulled open his collar as though to get air – and then fell upon the wolf next to him. Eyes wild. Fangs out.

The air froze.

As Nick and Judy stared in horror, Larry tore the radio off his belt. "This is Lawrence. I'm with Gary and the vigilantes. All other units, sound off, **now!** "

"This is Freya! Still guarding the cells."

"Lyall. I'm with the doctor."

"Lupita here. By the computers."

Then, silence.

"That's everyone?!" said Larry, mostly to himself.

Gary bit his lip. "Everybody else was stationed outside..."

Larry looked to his partner. For a moment, he seemed uncertain. Vulnerable.

Then his eyes hardened into ice.

"Listen," he said, and everyone listened. "We're under attack. Possible bioweapon. Everyone stationed outside – all _seven_ – seem to be going savage. They need to be subdued for their own safety. Otherwise, they'll tear each other into pieces!"

He strode out of the room. Gary followed closely. So did Nick and Judy, almost by magnetism.

"Gary and I are going out there," he was saying. "We'll act as the vanguard. Lyall, Lupita, I want both of you to join us when you can. But first, Lupita, contact the night shift. Inform them of the situation and get them down here, _now_."

"Okay!"

"Lyall, help the doctor prep the clinic." His voice was grim. "She's going to have multiple patients."

"Understood."

They arrived at a huge steel door. Larry nodded stiffly and Gary hopped up, tapping its keypad.

"And me?" came a voice over the radio.

"Stay by the cells, Freya," said Larry. "This whole thing could be a diversion. We need someone guarding that room."

"Solid copy. Will the four of you be enough?"

He visibly forced himself not to sigh. "God, I hope so."

Gary opened the door and rushed in. "Dibs on the net cannon!"

Nick and Judy followed them, finding themselves in an armoury. Weapons and firearms lined the walls, alongside lockers and crates packed with various kinds of ammunition. Gary had grabbed something blue and cylindrical, and was strapping a bandoleer of tightly-coiled spare nets to his shoulder.

Lupita's voice crackled back through the radio. "Larry, problem. Something seems to be blocking outward communications."

Gary fished out his phone – and frowned at the lack of bars. Larry bit back a snarl. "Can you fix it?"

"Maybe?"

"Try."

On cue, Judy stepped up. "What about us?"

"Good question." Clicking off his radio, Larry reached for firearm hanging on the wall. It wasn't a tranquillizer. "I guess the sensible option is killing you both."

Nick's blood went cold.

Judy's, as ever, ran hot. " _What?!_ "

"Yeah, no, what?!" said Gary, ears tall. "Larry, no! What are you saying?!"

Larry focused on the gun. "They've only been here a few hours. This isn't a coincidence. We need to ensure they don't do any further damage."

"They want to help!"

Larry's grip tightened. "They could be double agents!"

"What kind of bizarro plan would that even be?!" yelled Gary, thrusting out his arms. "Double agents only work if you trust them!"

"Which you **do!** " snapped Larry, his voice raising. "For some ungodly reason, you've shown these two lunatics nothing but warmth ever since they arrived! I know you're... You see people _differently_. You trust outsiders. But I don't! And considering all the data, I'm not gonna trust _them!_ "

Gary met his gaze. His voice was soft. "Then trust me."

Silence hung in the armoury. Larry stared down his partner, expression unchanging. Nick was terrified of moving. If he moved, if he breathed, they'd see. His instincts screamed at him to keep still.

Then Larry sagged. He hissed through his teeth, dragging his eyes over to Nick and Judy. "You're lucky," he said, "that my partner is such a sap."

"Haha, yes!" said Gary. "We're teaming up! I'll grab your stuff, Judy!"

He bounded up to a nearby locker as Larry replaced the gun with a tranquillizer. "Be thankful we don't have time for discussion. Every second we waste puts the pack in more danger. If you're up for this–"

"I am," said Judy, because of course she was. Nick nodded weakly.

"Good," said Larry. "Maybe you'll prove useful after all."

Gary returned with a box. "Here's your cool costume!"

Judy took it, quickly surveying the contents. Helmet, chest piece, wristguard wristguard belt – all there. "Thanks!"

As she suited up, Larry tossed a pistol to Nick. He caught it. Just about. "Here, fox. You might need this."

Nick stared at the weapon. "This... this is a gun."

"It's a shock pistol," said Larry, urgent and terse. "Non-lethal, but effective. Anyone tries to bite you, zap them."

"You're just assuming I can use it?"

"You'll figure it out!" said Gary with a bright smile. "I believe in you."

"Don't worry, Nick," said Judy, sliding her helmet into place. "We'll take point. You just focus on defending yourself. I'll try to watch your back, but don't do anything stupid." She flicked up her visor, letting him see the wry look in her eyes. "I know that's hard for you."

Nick smiled – then tensed as Larry grabbed his shoulder. "She's right. Stay by the door. We can't afford you screwing this up."

Gary frowned, hefting the cannon. "Jeez, Larry, that's–"

"We don't have **time** to be polite!" snapped Larry. He turned back to Nick, eyes cold. "You're a liability, in more ways than one. Remember what we _discussed_. Stay back, understand?"

Nick resisted the urge to glance over to Judy. The wolf was right. He had slowed her down enough already. Keeping his expression even, he nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

"Good. Move out!"

Larry broke into a sprint, Gary close behind. Judy glanced to Nick, flicked her visor back down, and followed.

The four of them were soon thundering down the stairs. Judy, naturally the fastest, led. Gary and Larry moved together, covering the distance with easy, focused strides.

Nick brought up the rear, huffing steadily. "Oh god... oh god... oh god..."

Gary dipped behind, drawing level with him as they neared the ground floor. "Hey, don't worry, little buddy. Fighting's not so hard. It's all in your head."

Nick focused on moving, but his sarcasm kicked in instinctively. "Being torn apart by... savage wolves isn't... a matter of... perspective."

"Oh, that's not what I mean," said Gary. "I mean it's all in your _head._ You're small, yeah, and you should be careful. But the most important part of fighting is working out what the other guy's gonna do." He beamed. "You seem good at that!"

"Thanks..." Nick glanced up. "And what are... these guys... gonna do?"

Gary turned his attention forward, his expression darkening. "Probably... a lot of biting."

"God."

They reached the front doors. The tall, frosted glass and intricate gold patterning – too ornate for a hospital, a sign of the building's age – obscured what was happening. But Nick could hear it. The growling. The snarling. The howls of pain.

Judy hung back, letting Gary and Larry ahead. They each took one side of the main door, checked their weapons, shared a nod. Then they pushed through.

Nick immediately caught the smell of blood.

He trailed after Judy, surveying the scene quickly, unwilling to linger on any part too long. Five wolves were still fighting, feral and caked in blood. Two more lay on the ground. Unmoving.

Gary dropped to one knee, aimed at a wolf, and fired. A net exploded from the cannon, trapping it. It snarled and thrashed, trapped. "That's one! Cover me." He began to reload, Larry sticking close.

Judy charged in. A wolf noticed her, lunging. She ducked to the side and kicked it full-force in the side of the head. It hit the ground and rolled.

"Hah!" Judy planted her hands on her hips. "This isn't so–" and another wolf tackled her.

" _Hopps!_ " Nick tensed, rooted by the door. He watched as Judy wiggled free and tried, unsuccessfully, to get some distance.

When it came again, Judy reacted in time to kick off the ground and sail over its snapping jaws, but her jump was sloppy. She landed messily on its back, grabbing the collar of its shredded coat for support. It thrashed furiously, trying to dislodge her – and then another wolf slammed into them.

Nick glanced over to the partners, but they weren't faring much better. Gary had missed his second shot, allowing the largest wolf – frighteningly strong even before being dosed – to close in. It had tackled Larry to the ground, and Gary was wrestling it to keep its teeth from his partner's throat. "Of course it would be _Boris_ ," he huffed, in a tone more exasperated than anything.

Nick turned back to Judy and the two remaining wolves. She was still alive, but the wolves were fighting over her like, well, a scrap of meat.

Each one had bitten down on an arm, and while her wristguards took the brunt of the damage, she was helpless. Her feet dangled uselessly, off the ground, unable to build momentum. She twisted in their grip, pulled back and forth, yelling her defiance.

Nick felt something shift.

Larry was right: he was a liability. But how much longer would he stay that way? Judy had offered to send him home. He said no. He had made his decision, like an idiot, and he had to stand by it, like a courageous idiot. It was time to move.

It was only after he had started charging that he remembered he was holding a gun.

He didn't have a soldier's instincts. But that just meant he would improvise.

The wolf on Judy's left seemed the greater threat so Nick ran for it, closed the gap, and slammed his weight against it. Nothing happened. That avenue exhausted, Nick aimed the shock pistol for its neck, hissed a prayer, and fired.

Electricity singed the wolf's flesh and it yelped, but its grip on Judy only tightened. Angry and terrified and lacking other options, Nick fired and fired and kept firing.

Finally the wolf fell back, jaws loose and stance weak. Nick aimed for its face, firing until it collapsed and lay still.

"Thanks!" Judy let herself be dragged by the other wolf, feet back on the ground. Unable to strike decisively, she unclipped her belt with her free hand. She looped it around the wolf's back teeth, grabbed both ends, and yanked. Its lower jaw dropped enough to free her arm, though the wolf immediately bit back down on the belt.

Judy darted back, letting Nick finish the wolf with several shots to the face. He watched as it swayed woozily, then fell.

Nick found himself staring at the pistol in his grip. His hands were shaking, but not out of fear.

"Holy crap," he breathed. "I did it."

" _Yeah!_ " Judy slapped him on the back, hard enough to upset his balance. "Nice work, Slick."

"Th-thanks." He turned to her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, actually. Although..."

She watched as her mangled wristguards slowly, miserably, slid off her arms, too damaged to stay tight. The wolf saliva didn't help. Now the only black on her costume was her visor and chest piece, leaving the rest of the red bodysuit bare.

"Starting to feel a little underdressed, here."

He managed a smile. "You're wearing pyjamas. Embrace it."

They looked up to see Larry slam a dart into the final wolf's neck. Gary fired another net for good measure, then similarly contained the others.

Before long, all the savage wolves were restrained. It was over.

Gary threw his head back and howled into the twilight air. Larry's ears perked. He resisted long enough to look around, but the afflicted wolves were secure. They had a moment. He indulged himself in instinct and joined in.

Then, so did Judy.

Nick stared. "Podunk, what the hell are you doing?"

Judy laughed. "What? It looked fun. And it is! Get in on this, it's like a group hug!"

She resumed the howl, head back and ears high, throwing her shoulders into the motion. Gary's voice shook as he fought off a laugh, overjoyed Judy had joined. But soon the three voices had a steady harmony.

The savage wolves – those still conscious – watched from their nets. One stopped thrashing. It listened for a few seconds. Then it joined as well.

Soon, the howl was bolstered by several savage calls. Their cries were loud, powerful, burning with anger. But they were unnatural. Harmony became discord as voices wavered, sickly and directionless. An eerie dirge for a doomed pack.

Nick's ears flattened. The sound surrounded him, clawing at him. He disliked loud noises at the best of times, and this was nowhere near the best of times.

"Okay. **Okay!** " he yelled, fighting to make himself heard. "It's officially become creepy! Can we stop?!"

Larry ended his howl. "The fox has a point. Moment over." He nudged Gary, who dutifully trailed off. Judy followed suit. The savage wolves continued aimlessly for a few moments, but without a steady centre, the sound collapsed.

Larry moved towards the canister, lying discarded on the concrete. "Hmm. Seems this 'plague' is artificial after all..." He knelt, reaching for it.

Nick tensed. "Wait! Don't touch that!"

Larry stopped, turning. "Why not?"

Nick took a breath. "Because if I was some, some kind of terrorist with a bioweapon, and I left my equipment in plain view, I'd've probably booby-trapped it."

Larry blinked. "I hadn't even considered that. Good catch, fox." He stood. "Some of the night shift have bomb disposal training. We'll wait for them to get here. Until then, our priority is to secure all the victims, and find out who the hell did this." Judy nodded, as though this all made sense. Nick felt sick.

Gary whined. "Um, guys... shouldn't Lupita have shown up by now?"

Judy's ear pricked. She turned slowly towards the asylum's open door. From outside, the four could see the stairwell – and suddenly, clattering down the steps, came a wolf.

It was Lupita, or it had been. Her black coat flapped loosely around its body as it came to the lobby. It looked up, savage eyes landing on the rabbit, and growled. Then it burst into a sprint.

Larry went to reload his tranq gun and Gary fumbled with his cannon and Judy squared her shoulders and readied herself. Nick, meanwhile, moved to the door – and, at the right moment, just as the wolf was almost outside, closed it.

There was a thump and a muted whine as it slammed into the thick glass head-first. Larry shot him a glare and Nick just shrugged.

The mercenary ripped the door open, took a second to survey the she-wolf, and then shot it in the neck with a dart. It stayed down.

His eyes were cold, but no longer steady. His nose twitched. "Somebody got past us, inside the building..."

Nick barely processed the change. One moment, Larry was standing over the fallen wolf – a second later, he was grabbing Nick's shirt, roaring into his face. " **You!** What happened to watching the door?!"

Nick was working up the nerve to point out that Larry had ordered him to _stay_ by the door, not _watch_ the door, when another voice cut through the air.

" _Larry!_ " Gary strode up, eyes hard. "Put him down."

"But–"

"But nothing! Yeah, someone got in. We all missed them. We're all to blame. Don't waste time yelling, we need to get inside!"

Larry shut his mouth, nodding curtly. "Yes. Right. Let's go." Without looking at Nick, he pushed him away and stepped over Lupita. Back inside.

With nothing on the ground floor, the four went back up the stairs. Nick found himself in front, claws worrying the yellow paint of his shock pistol as he ran.

They came to the corridor with Madge's clinic and Larry yelled at him to stop but he didn't. He reached the door, out of breath. "Madge? You okay?!"

A second later a grey blur burst out of the doorframe, pinning him to the ground. His pistol slid along the floor and under a set of heavy metal shelves.

Hands free, Nick managed – barely – to grab the honey badger's face before it tore his throat out. His arms strained as he fought to keep it back. "Madge is not okay! _Not **okay!**_ "

"Her too?!" Judy leapt in, kicking it, but it didn't budge.

"Move!" yelled Gary, and Judy moved. He fired a net, trapping the badger. It hissed monstrously and tried chewing through the rope, but the rope held.

Larry strode into the clinic as Gary checked his bandoleer. He sighed. "That's my last net. Switching." He casually tossed the cannon aside, drawing a tranquillizer pistol like Larry's.

Judy offered Nick a hand. He smiled weakly and took it, standing.

Larry returned. His face was expressionless, but suddenly, it seemed like an act. "Swept the room."

"And?" said Gary. "What's in there?"

"Lyall." Larry started walking, eyes forward. "Come on. We need to keep moving."

Gary hesitated at the door, then followed, ears low. Judy jogged after them, and Nick – unarmed, scared, increasingly sure he was trapped in a bad dream – stayed close.

Larry led them toward the cells. As they approached, voices became audible. Unknown voices. Larry held up a fist, and they closed the distance silently.

They took cover against a corner, peering around. Their disparate heights made it easier to share the space.

Two sheep, both in gasmasks, were by the door. Freya was on her knees, blood running from her nose. Jesse held her by the collar as Woolter towered over her.

"Give us the code, pred!"

Freya smiled. "Bite me. Literally, try it. Bet I wouldn't even–"

Woolter whacked his pistol into her nose, and she whined. Gary and Larry snarled in silent synchrony.

They shared a nod. Both readied their tranquillizers. Then they leapt from cover – the sheep shouting in surprise – and fired.

Two darts flew. One came for Jesse, who bleated and shoved Freya into its path. It hit her neck, eliciting a yelp.

The other caught Woolter in the shoulder. He grunted, his legs buckling as it immediately took hold. But before he succumbed, before he and Freya both crumpled, he groaned angrily, raised his pistol, and fired.

The pellet went straight for Gary.

His instincts failed him. He froze, eyes wide. Vulnerable. "Oh, _no–!_ "

Larry didn't speak. Larry just acted.

Gary flinched, looking away. Nothing happened.

He looked up, straight into Larry's soft eyes.

He was right in front of him, hands on his shoulders. Vivid blue on his neck. He met Gary's gaze. Slowly, he broke into a tender smile. It was the warmest Gary had ever seen him.

Then it started.

As Larry began to twitch violently, Judy burst from cover, screaming in rage. Jesse fixed his pistol on her and Nick tensed. But no shot came. Jesse blinked a lot and said "Wait, no, not–" before Judy jumped and slammed both feet into his chest. He wheezed and fell.

Gary watched numbly as Larry turned. He wasted vital seconds staring in horror before trying to reload his pistol, pulling out a fistful of darts with one shaking hand. "C'mon c'mon no no no _please_ –"

The savage wolf lunged suddenly, dropping its own gun and sending darts flying everywhere. It slammed into Gary's chest, writhing. He tried to wrestle it, but it twisted viciously in his grip, its maw on his arm–

The wolf bit down.

"Ow," said Gary, face tensing as he fought to downplay his reaction. "That's my arm. Okay. Okay. Ow. Oh god."

"Hang on!" Judy leapt in. She kicked the savage wolf in the head and it fell back with a whine.

Gary instinctively brought his injured arm in, cradling it – and looked up, eyes frantic. "Wait! Don't hurt him!"

"Don't _what?!_ " spluttered Nick. "He was chewing right through you!"

"Not on purpose! He can't help it!" Gary ignored his wound, his attention only on Judy. "Please, _please_. He's my – don't hurt him."

The wolf stood, a snarl shaking its body. Judy watched it, wary. "I'll... I'll try."

It advanced on her, then leapt forward. Judy dodged to the side, its jaws closing on empty air, but it turned nimbly and dove for her again.

Nick pulled his eyes away, trying to think. Darts on the ground. Larry's discarded gun.

 _Come on, idiot. This isn't hard._

As Judy struggled with the wolf, Nick crept forward, taking the gun and a dart and desperately teaching himself how to reload. It shouldn't be–

A yell pierced the air. Nick flinched, ears up. Judy must have tried a kick – her foot was in its mouth. It bit down hard on her ankle, then shook her around by the leg. Nick's nose caught blood. The wolf flicked its jaws and threw her against a wall. She hit it and didn't get up.

Nick froze, knowing he was next; but the wolf turned to Gary instead, eyes sharp. It advanced and Gary backed away, but he slipped on a loose dart and fell. Nick dragged his eyes back to the gun. _Go. Reload it reload it now you stupid–_

The wolf kept coming as Gary shuffled backwards. He kept his mangled arm up. It couldn't do much, but it blocked his throat, if only from view. With his good hand, he reached out pleadingly.

"Larry... c-c'mon..."

He hit the wall. Nowhere to go. The wolf still coming.

"Larry, _please_..." His face twisted in pain. Not his arm. "I... I never had the courage to say this earlier and now maybe you'll never understand it but I love you, man! Like, I – not – just – I _love_ you! You matter to me more than anyone else, and I wanna spend my whole life with you, and...!" His breath hitched as he fought off tears. "Now I'm gonna cry, I promised my mom I wouldn't die while crying but...!"

He shut his eyes.

The wolf closed in.

...Nothing.

Then, wetness.

Nick stared. The savage wolf was placidly licking Gary's face. He opened his eyes, confused, then burst out laughing.

"Oh my god... oh my _god!_ Larry! This – you – _awh!_ "

Nick shook his head, refocusing. He had finally loaded the dart into the gun, and the wolf wasn't moving. This was his best chance. He aimed, took a breath, and shot it in the neck. The wolf yelped, then turned to Nick, anger returning.

"No, no!" Gary reached out with his good hand, stroking its face. "Shh, _shh_... it's okay. Just ignore him. I'm here. I'm here..."

The wolf's eyes stayed on Nick, but it didn't move. After a moment, it began to sag, eyelids drooping.

"That's it... just, uh... just try to relax..."

It slowly lowered itself onto Gary's chest; he kept stroking its head, making sure it was calm. Soon, its eyes drifted shut. Larry was asleep.

Judy dragged herself up, standing next to Nick. "Good job. You handled that well."

"Thanks..."

Gary looked over to them, smiling thinly. "Y'know, I've waited a long time for this. This... isn't how I pictured it."

"How is he?" said Nick.

Gary nodded. "...Heavy."

Nick glanced to Judy's ankle - and winced. "Oh, Hopps, that looks bad. I could maybe..."

"I'm fine," she said.

"Uh, I don't mean to contradict you, but it really does not look like–"

"I'm _fine,_ " she snapped. "Don't waste time on me. Help Gary. He's hurt a lot worse."

Nick hesitated, but she was right. "Yeah, okay. Good point."

"Yeah," said Gary, pinned under his partner. "Very good point. Very _very_ good point. I like that plan. I like the Help Gary plan."

He and Nick moved Larry to the side so he could sit up. Then they gingerly removed Gary's arm from his sleeve. The mangled black fabric was an indication of how badly Larry had bitten him, but seeing the wound still turned Nick's stomach. Red blood against white fur, seeping through. Still flowing.

Nick's nose wrinkled. The stench of blood was thick. "Is Madge your only doctor? She's..."

"Yeah," said Gary softly. He rallied, forcing a smile. "There's other doctors, they're just all at home right now. She always worked the hardest... Besides, one of the night shift guys used to be an EMT. He'll look at this. For now, could you just help me, uh, stop bleeding everywhere?"

Nick forced himself to breathe. "Yeah. Yeah, I can."

As they worked, Judy approached the sheep. She kept her weight off her bad leg, almost unconsciously. Her attention was elsewhere.

Woolter was down. He wasn't getting up any time soon. But Jesse was still conscious. He was only stunned. He had come here, he had brought this disgusting drug and knowingly _used_ it on real people, inflicted this on Larry and the guards and god knows how many others? And he just sat there, blinking. Completely unhurt.

Judy's fist clenched so hard it began to shake.

Jesse looked up as the rabbit closed in. Her voice was low. "You. Name."

"What?"

"Tell me," she spat, "your _name._ "

His mouth flapped uselessly. Then he recovered. Slightly. "I... I'm not saying anyth–"

"Jesse," said Nick, still focused on Gary. "His name is Jesse."

The sheep stared. Gary whined softly, watching Nick with awe. "...some kinda... name wizard..."

Judy was silent for a moment. The light caught her visor as she looked up to the door. The keypad.

"Gary. Give me the code to the cells."

He shrank, ears flattening. "I... I dunno. Larry wouldn't want me, uh..."

"Larry," said Judy levelly, "has gone savage. Because of this... pathetic excuse for a person. I have a solution. A way forward. And to do it, I need _the_ _code_."

Gary bit his lip. "...It's 3-7-9-1."

"Thank you."

Judy jumped up, grabbing the keypad and quickly hammering in the code. The door unlocked. Then she grabbed Jesse by the collar and pulled him inside.

Nick blinked. He followed her, leaving Gary sitting lamely on the floor. "I'll be here, then..."

Judy dragged Jesse past the cells. She stayed stoic as predators roared and rattled the glass. Jesse was having a harder time remaining calm.

"I-I don't care what you do... I'm not–" He yelped as a tiger threw itself against the glass. Nick flinched too, but stayed close.

Judy came to a cell at the back, shoving Jesse to the ground. A grey wolf emerged from the darkness, golden eyes gleaming.

"Jesse, this is my friend Randy. I know he's _craving_ to meet new people."

Jesse glared. "What? Another savage wolf? That's not scary. Me and Woolter got this far, remember?"

"You did," said Judy. "With your drugs and your weapons and your _masks_." She tore his gasmask off, throwing it against the glass. Randy snarled. "But what if I put you into this cell? Just you and Randy, no toys. What then?"

Jesse paled. "...You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Nick stared. "Hopps..."

"Shut up." Judy grabbed Jesse's shirt, pulling him closer to the wolf. "He has it coming."

"No, Judy. Seriously. You really–"

" _Quiet_ ," snapped Judy. "I don't need you to play good cop. I'm not a police officer any more. In fact, there's no police here at all. So if I _put_ you," she yelled, **slam** ming Jesse against the glass, "into this _cage_ ," **slam** "no-one would _care_ ," **slam** "and no-one would _miss you!_ "

Jesse was hyperventilating now. Randy was right up against the wall, flecks of spit on the glass.

"Talk!" Judy roared.

"I can't! I, I–"

"Who are you working for?!"

"Please!" he sobbed. "They'll kill me!"

"And _who_ do you think you're talking to?!"

Jesse cracked, flailing an arm. "Okay, okay! I'll tell you! Just... just gimme a second, to, to... oh _mom_..."

Judy stepped back, leaving him heaving in breath. She raised her visor, rubbing her eyes.

Nick pulled in close. "Nice one, Hopps," he murmured. "Glad I could add to the authenticity of the act." He paused. "It... _was_ an act, right?"

"Yeah," said Judy. "Sure."

She turned back to Jesse, stance firm. "Don't keep me waiting. I'm not a very patient–"

"It's Bellwether!"

"It's _Bellwether?_ " Judy blinked, ears tall with shock.

"I mean, I'm not sure," he blurted out. "I don't have any hard proof or anything but one time my boss Doug was on the phone and I heard it and it was definitely her? And I'm pretty sure there's only one person higher than him and it'd make sense if it was her 'cause she's a sheep and we're sheep and like that's her plan. I think." He stared at them, wild-eyed. "Sheep."

Nick and Judy shared a look, not quite able to process this information. But Nick saw the confusion in Judy's eyes change. It didn't vanish, but the urgency of the situation broke it and crushed the fragments into rage, as coal turns to diamond under pressure.

She glared at Jesse. "Keep talking! What's this 'plan'? Where is your boss now?!"

* * *

Zootennial Stadium was already beginning to fill.

Mammals of every size jostled outside the huge, curved building. The atmosphere was bright and lively, despite the concert's posters bearing atypical terms like ' _charity_ ' and ' _benefit_ ' and ' _missing mammals_ '.

Backstage was a cacophony, workers of all description rushing to get everything in place. The technical staff were performing final checks on the lighting, the audio, Gazelle's beloved fog machines. Various stewards and managers strode the halls, eyes sharp for any errors. The dancers were practised and stretched and had little else to do but breathe and savour the nervous pre-show energy.

Gazelle was supposed to be in her dressing room. The make-up staff were particular here, and wanted to triple-check that her eyeliner was perfect. But Gazelle had always been a free spirit. And she loved to jog through the back corridors, seeing the effort that went into every show. Her ornate red dress sparkled in the stark light, but it wasn't as bright as her smile. She was the star, yes, but she knew she was merely the most visible of thousands of talented, hard-working mammals.

She slid through a back room, earning a few startled smiles from the workers. She grinned as she passed. "Alright, people, let's give 'em a great show tonight!"

It was the perfect moment for Doug – working in the corner, the janitor's cap he had appropriated covering his face – to say something like 'Oh, I'll give you a _show_ alright', or 'Yeah. It'll be a night to _remember_.'

But Doug wasn't that kind of guy.

* * *

 ** _wow judy and nick were in that waiting room for a loooooooong time_**

 ** _Uh, let's go ahead and call that three month hiatus semi-intentional. It took me ages to finish this damn chapter (and that probably shows), but I have a decent grasp on the rest. I'd say "Hopefully updates will be consistent now!" but I already said that, so, uh_**

 ** _Much love to zooLover for providing some great, in-depth analysis on Bellwether's operation, which really helped me overcome some bad writer's block. Also, our fantastic new cover was made by the wonderful RadicalRobo! I definitely recommend seeing more of his art on his tumblr blog of the same name, especially if (like me!) you enjoy cool depictions of everyone's favourite rabbit secret agent who doesn't actually exist, Jack Savage. Huge thanks to you both!_**


	11. Red Carpet

Leodore Lionheart had many pet peeves. One of them was so-called 'conventional wisdom'. There were many folksy phrases that rubbed the Mayor the wrong way. Possibly the worst offender was the adage – often misattributed to philosopher and tactician Shih Tzu – to keep one's friends close and enemies closer.

From the age of seven, when he first heard it, Lionheart thought this was moronic advice. Enemies were to be kept at a considerable distance, only coming close during the enjoyable but _brief_ moments you are crushing them underpaw. Why would you possibly want them to be close all the time? They could look over your shoulder, read your e-mails. Moronic. His opinion remained unchanged for decades.

Then, during a long and difficult day, he got a phonecall.

He tried to stay off his phone during meetings, he really did. He had to set a good example for his underlings. So no matter how boring it was to hear this little deer natter about the state of the municipal parks, he did his best to stay upright and listen closely and not look as utterly disinterested as he actually was.

His eyes scanned the other occupants of the boardroom. On his right, his publicist Mariah, dark red blazer sharp against her white fur. The arctic fox had mastered a facial expression that conveyed professional focus while masking complete boredom. Most of the mammals in the room had similar countenances, Lionheart included. Careful, feigned interest.

All except Dawn.

Dawn, directly to his left, watching the doe with shining green eyes and taking frequent notes in a colour-coded binder. She loved this garbage. She actually thought the parks department was _important_ , for reasons Lionheart would never understand. There might be some kind of cultural gap between them, he conceded internally, something a sheep would appreciate that a lion just wouldn't see. But he refused to merely put it down to her species.

No, it was because she was a weird idiot.

His phone buzzed loudly, tripping the deer up mid-word. He stuck a hand in his pocket and rejected the call with a practised motion. "Sorry, sorry." He waved a paw. "You were saying?"

The deer cleared her throat and resumed. She regained momentum admirably – before Lionheart's phone went off again. He rolled his eyes and fished it out.

The number made him pause.

But not for long, because there was an entire boardroom of people watching him, people who knew him on at least a superficial level. Getting a call from Gary was... troubling. Potentially. He was probably overthinking it. Any contact from the mercenary team was a red flag, but if anyone would call him by accident – or for 'non-work related reasons' – it would be Gary. So he rejected the call, dropped the phone on the table, and silently, apologetically, motioned the deer to continue.

Seconds later, the phone buzzed again, rattling loudly. A text this time. Lionheart sighed and unlocked it. Sure enough, from Gary.

 ** _O9OMG TERRINLE ATTACJ EVERYO E DOWN LARRY ISSICK WE STLL HAVE JUDY BUT GAZELL IS TARGET  
AND ITS B ELLWEATHER_**

Lionheart squinted, reading the text a second time.

...No. Still gibberish.

But urgent, terrified gibberish.

Lionheart heaved a sigh, standing. "I'm _so_ sorry, I gotta take this. Carry on without me, okay? I'll be right back."

He brushed past the chairs, moving for the door. Part of him wondered about the looks being shot at his back.

He left the room. He strode down the corridor. He came to his office and slammed the huge doors behind him. He glanced around, ensuring no-one else was in the room – paranoia, perhaps, but that was how he had gotten this far. Then, and only then, he called Gary.

It went through before the second ring. "I swear to god," Lionheart growled, "if this isn't important I'm going to wring your–"

His expression darkened even further as Gary cut over him – but then he paled. The anger drained from him.

"You're kidding."

He shook his head, raising a hand as though the wolf could see him. "No, no, sorry. Of course you aren't. And everybody else was... yeah. Except them. But the rest of the pack, they're all...?"

He took a shaky breath, eyes screwed shut. But he kept focused. This wasn't his first crisis.

God, it was bad, though.

"And I'm the first one you've contacted?"

He pulled back his sleeve, checking his needlessly expensive watch.

"Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. The night shift will start arriving within the hour. Don't waste time calling them if there's more pressing concerns. Just brief them on arrival."

He rubbed his eyes, beginning to pace his office.

"Gary, _Gary_. Focus for me, okay? I need to ask – why did your text mention Bellwether?"

His expression shifted a lot as Gary spoke. None of the emotions were especially pleasant.

"Uh... huh. Right. Do you have any proof? Hard evidence it's her?" He frowned. "...Yeah, no, that's not exactly permissible in court. I can't take that at face value."

He sighed angrily, running a hand through his mane.

"No, I'm not _defending_ her, it's just... it's a big claim. I can't really see it. But I guess that's exactly what she'd want." He stopped pacing. "...You do realize what this means for our new friend, don't you?"

He growled.

"Think, genius! She outright told me she was in contact with Bellwether. She blames _me_ for not getting her job back!"

Back to pacing. Needed to work off this damn energy.

"Listen, I don't care what your gut says. Your _gut_ is not in charge here, I am! I want her dealt with. Whether she's actively betraying us or she's a pawn... or even if she's just some innocent psychopath who only wants to kick people. We shouldn't be relying on her. Contain them. Both of them."

He rolled his eyes.

"No, I don't expect you to do it yourself. Especially if you're injured. Just stall them until the others get there. Strength in numbers, Gary? A concept you might have heard of? I hear wolves love that garbage."

He stopped again, but slowly this time. His eyes went to the window. In the distance, Zootennial Stadium. Bright and blue and suddenly ominous.

"...No. I'm still going to the concert." He winced, ear twitching. "I know! I know. But if I don't go – if I back out, an hour before it starts, for no given reason – and then there's some kind of terrorist attack... that's going to look suspicious. Way more suspicious than we can afford. I'll take my chances. I'll have my boys with me. Besides, if Bellwether's seriously the one planning it, I'm sure she's about to call it off."

His eyes narrowed.

"Because she'll be there too."

Moments later, Lionheart was striding back into the meeting room, jovial smile back in place.

"Sorry, everyone. I've tried explaining to my wife a _dozen_ times not to call me at work, but..."

He shrugged dramatically, getting a few nervous chuckles from the junior staff. Mariah raised one dark eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Bless her.

"Unrelatedly," he continued, "I'd like to make a quick announcement when we're done here, so I hope you can all spare a minute. Until then, though, no more interruptions."

He returned to his chair, eyes on the deer. But he wasn't listening. Her speech – her entire department – was non-essential, a secondary priority to be dropped in times of crisis. Lionheart's attention was elsewhere.

He thought about what he would do the second this meeting adjourned. He kept an eye on Bellwether, watching her movements, analysing everything she did. Most importantly, he betrayed no outward sign of his thoughts. No indication of the breakneck work he did to put the pieces in place.

Finally, the deer shut up. Lionheart was only vaguely aware of what his administration was signing off on. Bellwether seemed happy, which probably meant it would satisfy the grazers. Mariah had raised no objections, which meant it wasn't rock stupid. Good. Fine. It would do.

As usual, he had bigger concerns.

"Thank you so much, Miss Knope," he said brightly. He stood. He went for the door. Smooth motions. "Very informative, as ever."

He stood in front of the door, quietly blocking the only exit, and gave all assembled a warm smile.

"Now, as for my announcement, I'll be brief. As you know, I'm throwing a bit of political weight behind Gazelle's charity performance tonight. It's a good cause, and hey – free concert!" Pause for laughter, which came on cue. "I bring it up because I figured I'd extend an invitation to my hardest-working member of staff. Lord knows she's earned a reward. The unsung hero of this office – Dawn Bellwether!"

Bellwether looked up from her binder, eyes wide. In fact, the whole room was mildly shocked. This was not a ringing endorsement of Lionheart's managerial style. He'd worry about that later. Maybe.

"Bellwether..." He smiled. "Dawn. Sometimes I worry that your efforts here go unappreciated. You like Gazelle, right? Come join me, it'll be fun."

It was a risky move. Far too sudden, far too specific; he was showing his hand. Essentially revealing what he knew. Information was power, and this was a dangerous loss in their game of chess.

But up until five minutes ago, Lionheart hadn't _known_ he was playing chess, and so far he had been _winning_ , so he felt he had a handle on this.

Bellwether seemed even smaller than usual. "Oh, I... really couldn't."

"Nonsense, I insist!" He grinned. "And don't try to tell me you've got plans. I distinctly remember you saying this morning that you intended to spend the night at home."

She blinked. "You never remember anything I say."

"First time for everything, right?"

Bellwether cast around for another way out – but Mariah spoke up first. "For what it's worth, I think it would be a good idea. I mean, you two do have a nice dynamic going on – large predator, small prey. Gives off an inclusive vibe. I still think that's what ultimately swung the election in your favour." She shrugged with one shoulder. "You needn't say anything, Dawn. Just being there might be worthwhile. Makes it seem like more of a 'City Hall' effort rather than a 'Mayor Lionheart' effort."

Lionheart gave Mariah a big, big smile. He paid her for a reason. Bless her.

He turned back to Bellwether. She was impassive. Lionheart thought he saw her expression flicker to something darker – but perhaps he imagined it. Seeing what he needed to see.

Eventually, she smiled sheepishly. "Oh, alright then. Just let me grab something from my office. I'll meet you outside?"

Lionheart kept his grin in place. "Absolutely! See you there."

With that, they disbanded. Lionheart assumed Bellwether was about to make a quick phonecall; he was counting on it. Give her the chance to call off her henchmen. Work out the next step from there.

Striding down the corridor, he found himself in step with Mariah. "You know," she drawled, "you never invite me to things."

"Sorry," said Lionheart. "Honestly, it's–"

"No need to apologise," she said. "Not a huge fan of concerts." They came to her office. She paused at the door, giving him a smirk. "Still. I hope it goes well."

Lionheart didn't break his stride. He couldn't. "Yeah. Me too."

* * *

Once the dust settled, almost everyone at Cliffside had been poisoned. Only Judy, Nick, Gary and Freya had avoided the serum.

Technically speaking, the jury was out on Lyall. But he wasn't about to pitch in.

The savage wolves were starting to rouse, the drug in their systems counteracting the tranquillizer, but Freya was still unconscious. That just left three people – between them, six hands. Two that were small, two that were even smaller, and one that wasn't really working.

It was difficult to contain all the wolves with such little mammalpower, but urgency propelled them. They worked quickly, in grim silence. Mercifully, the lobby's elevator was still functional. The wolves in the courtyard were bustled upstairs and shoved into cells. It was all they could do.

Jesse had helpfully (if incoherently) explained about the cellphone blocker jamming communications. Once disabled, Gary had been free to call Lionheart. Then the two sheep had been tied up and shoved in separate cells in separate cellblocks. They had done enough damage for one night. Leaving them among the predators they had helped turn savage was fitting, a vicious justice. But Nick didn't have time to savour the schadenfreude.

Now he was leaning against the wall in Madge's clinic. Freya lay on the examination table. Judy paced the room, equally silent, still ignoring her bad ankle. Her helmet sat on the counter. And in Nick's hands, small and black and boxy, was Jesse's pistol.

He stared at it, instinctively wary, as though if he looked away it would bite him. It was still loaded with at least one pellet, so he made sure to keep the safety on. But a deep part of him didn't think that was enough. That part voted to throw it over the waterfall outside.

It was all so much to process. When he woke up this morning – _god, that meal with Mom seems like it was forever ago_ – he knew almost nothing about the savagery spilling through the streets. Now he knew too much.

This group, this cabal of dangerous sheep, had... _manufactured_ this. Purposefully produced this drug that could drive people insane, then set predators in their sights. It was all fake. If Nick had understood Jesse's frantic babbling correctly (and he had a knack for that), the poison would effect prey just as readily. It was all so...

He glared at the gun. Ensuring one last time the safety was on, he sighed and put it away. He couldn't look at it any more. He didn't have the stomach.

Gary returned – and, padding alongside him, Larry. The attack had filled every remaining cell in the asylum, but all Larry seemed to need was a muzzle and a tight leash. Gary's soothing presence, along with the lingering effects of the tranquillizer, had nullified most of the Night Howler in his system. Instead of going fully savage like the rest of his team, the wolf had merely lapsed into grumpy silence.

So, basically, no real change.

Nick and Judy tensed as it passed them. Judy watched the wolf; Nick eyed the muzzle. But there was no time for unease. Gary sat in Madge's chair, too small for him, and his partner lay by his feet.

"Well?" said Judy. "What did Lionheart say?"

Gary's ears were down. "Oh, he... He just said to wait. Yeah. Night shift's here soon, so..."

"That's not good enough. Gazelle and everyone else at that stadium is in danger. We need to put together a plan now!"

"Right. Sure." Nick folded his arms tightly, hugging himself. "Throwing this out there, just a suggestion for Step One: we call the cops?"

Gary went to speak, but Judy cut across him. "No need. The second something goes wrong at a Gazelle concert, the ZPD's best and brightest will hear about it."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Trust me."

* * *

The seats were, for the most part, still filling. Mammals filed into the concert hall, taking their time. But he was already in position. Front row seat, naturally. Bright pink shirt, a proud memento of a much earlier concert. Almost vibrating from sheer excitement. Benjamin Franklin Delano Clawhauser.

Part of him felt bad taking the night off when the department was in such disarray. But darn it, he was entitled to some free time! Stepping out of the pressure cooker Precinct One had become would stop him from getting... overcooked? He'd return to work with higher spirits, and do his best to lift everyone up with him. Even poor Chief Bogo.

Besides – _Gazelle concert_. For a good cause! What was he supposed to do, just _not_ go?

* * *

"More importantly," said Judy firmly, "we can't actually trust the ZPD."

Nick's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Think about it! If the Assistant Mayor's behind this, we have no idea how far the corruption spreads. Lionheart's clean – relatively speaking..."

"Lionheart is a better kind of dirty," provided Gary helpfully.

"Yes, exactly. We can trust Lionheart, sort of, because he's clearly invested in stopping this. But anybody else could be on Bellwether's payroll. Even Bogo." Her eyes unfocused. "Gosh. Was that why he fired me? Did they want this...?"

"Oh my god," murmured Nick.

"What?"

"You're _loving_ this, aren't you?" He stood tall, face hard. "Before now, all this crazy stuff was just a hobby. Something you did to make yourself feel better. But now it's necessary. Now you're convinced you're the only one who can save the day." His eyes narrowed. "You don't _want_ the ZPD to help, do you?"

She growled. "Nick... this is not a productive discussion."

He took a step back, hands splayed. "You're right. For once. We don't have time for me to bust your chops over this. But I'm just saying..."

"Don't."

"Guys," pressed Gary, "please try to focus."

"I am trying!" snapped Judy. "What about you? You have any bright ideas?!"

"No!" he said. "Larry's the smart one! And now he's, he's all, he can't–" Gary trailed into a low whine, biting his hand.

Nick and Judy shared a look. Judy sighed. "...Sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Gary took a breath. "It's okay."

"Everything's gonna work out, alright?" said Nick softly. "We're all under a lot of stress. But if there's anything you can do to help, pal, we'd really appreciate it."

Gary looked at them both, his brown eyes soft. He glanced down to his partner, who met his gaze.

"Aruuuwuurr _huhggh_ ," suggested Larry.

Gary smiled, then let out a slow sigh. "Larry's right. I _am_ a sap..."

He gathered himself and stood.

"Lionheart wants to detain you both."

Judy's ears were tall. "He does?"

"Yeah. Once the night shift arrives, we're supposed to tie you up or something. But that's not gonna happen." He smiled, confidence revived. "Because you guys overpowered me!"

They stared. "We... did?" said Nick.

"Yup! Really got the drop on me, I totally didn't see it coming. You overpowered me and disappeared into the night!" He gestured grandly to the door. "And then you... well, I don't know how you got to Zootennial Stadium, exactly, but I know you did get there, and you saved the day, and everyone got a happy ending except Bellwether and her evil sheep who all went to jail instead. Yeah!"

Judy blinked. For once, Nick recovered faster. "Did we get our phones back?"

"Oh! Duh." Gary reached into his coat with his good hand, passing Nick's cellphone to him. "You grabbed them off me during the scuffle. Obviously."

"Obviously."

Judy took hers, not that she had any intention of turning it on. "Hold on. Are you really okay with letting us go? Won't you get in trouble?"

"Only a little. Lionheart said he didn't expect me to hold you guys by myself. With everything else that needs fixing, we'll just have to forget about you two for the moment." He smiled. "Besides, everybody goes easy on me. I'm the village idiot."

"Where I'm standing, pal," said Nick, "you seem pretty smart."

"Well..." He shrugged, then straightened up. "Oh, hey, can I offer you anything for the road? Weapons? Equipment? Snacks?" He pointed to Nick. "You still have the shock pistol Larry gave you, right?"

Nick's hand went to his belt. There was something there definitely shaped like a gun. "Uh, yeah."

"That should be enough," said Judy. "We need to move." She gave Gary a concerned frown. "And you're sure you'll be okay here by yourself?"

Gary nodded vigorously. "Yeah. Yeah. I got Larry to keep me company." He turned to his partner. "Isn't that right, Larry?"

The wolf managed a drunken growl.

"Larry says 'Yes'," said Garry quietly.

"Well, alright." Judy bowed her head, eyes on the floor. "I'd... I just want to say thank you. For everything. You've been more than patient with us, all things considered, and I'd like to make it clear that you _oh jeez!_ "

Without warning, Gary had swooped in for a hug. He pulled Nick in too, albeit gingerly, with his injured arm. He crouched there, tail wagging, for a long time. A _long_ time. Judy wanted to get moving. Nick wanted to not be in a group hug, now or at any point in the future. But they indulged him. Both returned the hug, awkwardly patting Gary's back at slightly different rhythms.

Finally Gary pulled back, eyes shining. "Good luck, you guys! I'll see you on the other side, okay?" He went to the counter and tossed Judy's helmet over. "We're all counting on you. The whole pack."

She caught it, sliding it on. "Thanks. I hope your boyfriend gets better."

He beamed at them both. "Thanks! Same to you!"

With that, they turned and left.

They jogged awkwardly for a while before Nick broke the silence. "...Was he talking to you?"

"He was pretty clearly talking to both of us."

"Well then. We better get going. For the sake of our... boyfriends."

As they hit the stairs, Nick pulled out his phone. One hand on the railing, the other tapping furiously.

"What are you doing?"

"Arranging transport."

Judy tilted her head. "Can't we take one of their vans? I'm sure Gary would let us."

"What, you can drive a wolf-sized car now? Besides, we need to get there fast, _without_ the ZPD busting us on the way. That's gonna take a better driver than either of us." He put the phone to his ear. "...Hey. Buddy, I hope for your sake you aren't busy or drunk. You said you wanted a job that pays? I got one for you."

He proved his credentials immediately. Nick and Judy were only a few minutes outside Cliffside's gate when the van pulled up. The door opened and they hopped in and Finnick watched them both coolly.

"Hey." He glanced to Judy, then back to Nick. "So. What the hell are you doing?"

"At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I'll explain on the way." Nick settled himself into the seat. "Zootennial Stadium, as fast as you can get us there, but incognito. No cops. Think you can do that?"

"I _can_ do that." Finnick's claws drummed the steering wheel. "Whether I bother depends on the pay you promised. How much?"

"I, uh, don't have an exact figure," said Nick, and Judy quietly readied herself to be thrown out of the van, "but if this goes well, the Mayor will owe us a _massive_ favour."

Finnick shot Nick a glare. Then he turned in his seat and hit the accelerator. "Fine. Good enough."

Judy sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"Mmh."

The van trundled in silence. Judy tugged at the handkerchief on her ear, self-conscious. "Uh. Mister... Finnick?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry I called you a, um..."

"'Worthless, amoral non-entity'," provided Nick helpfully.

Judy wilted. "Yeah. That."

Finnick just shrugged. "S'alright. I hear 'worthless' a lot. 'Amoral', too." Judy thought she saw the ghost of a smile. "But 'non-entity' is a new one. So thanks for being novel, I guess."

She chuckled quietly. "You're welcome. Guess it's kinda my thing." She twisted around, moving to climb the seat. "I think I'm gonna do some stretches back–"

She stopped short. The back of the van was still packed with red fabric.

"You still have all this?"

"It was a whole _blimp_."

"Right. Okay." She fell forward, allowing herself to be consumed by the mass.

"Finnick," said Nick, eyes hard. "There's something else."

"What?"

"My mom says hello."

Finnick kept his eyes on the road, inexpressive. "...Cool."

* * *

Avinash sighed through his pointed teeth. The dressing room was so boring without the buzz and banter of his fellow dancers.

But they were all outside. The entire stadium forbade smoking.

Not for the first time, the tiger wondered if it was all worth it. The headaches, the restlessness, the cravings. He'd made a promise. One he intended to keep. He just wished it hadn't come at such a stressful time, such a major–

The door opened, startling him. But it was just a janitor. The sheep glanced over the make-up mirrors, checking for blemishes. "...Hey."

"Hello," said Avinash miserably.

"Not with the others?"

"No." Avinash shifted in his chair. Some glitter twinkled off his broad shoulders. "I'm... trying to quit smoking."

The sheep nodded. "Mmh. Must be hard. Hear you dancers sorta rely on it."

"Yeah."

"I need this, personally," he said, producing an e-cigarette. It glinted in the harsh light. "Couldn't do my job without it."

He went to use it, and Avinash frowned. "Um, I don't think you're supposed to–"

The sheep ignored him. A second later, the e-cigarette was spewing something bright blue in Avinash's direction. The tiger was soon caught in an obnoxious cloud. Emphasis 'noxious'.

He coughed, swatting the vapour away with a large paw. "Ugh. What's with the colour?"

"It's blueberry," said the sheep, unconvincingly.

"Whatever." Avinash stood, trying and failing to fully clear his throat. "I should get into position."

"Sure. Sure. Break a leg, or something."

Avinash muttered something about legs breaking, coughed again, and left. The sheep watched him go.

Doug wasn't one for pride - or emotions in general - but he had to admit he had outdone himself this time.

He hadn't been able to create an aerosol version of the drug which would take hold at the right pace. So he had broken things down. Firstly, he rigged the e-cigarette to exude the gas without Doug having to inhale it himself. Better to be safe. But by itself, the vapour he had forced Avinash to inhale was inert. It would sit harmlessly in his system unless activated by a specific catalyst.

A catalyst Doug had already worked into the concert's fog machines. Gazelle _loved_ to start her concerts with fog.

Bellwether would prefer the mauling to happen some time into the concert, at an appropriately dramatic moment, but Bellwether had set him an impossible task so she would take what she was given. Avinash would join the others onstage, begin the opening number - moving, exerting, inhaling – and quickly go savage.

Things were going well, but now was not the time for self-congratulation. Doug knew his orders. Bellwether had called ahead, informing him how Lionheart had dragged her along. Worrying. Seemed he had finally noticed what was under his nose.

But they called his bluff. Considering their 'arrangements' with security, Doug would stay close to ensure his employer's safety. But otherwise, the plan was unchanged. He pocketed the e-cigarette and headed for backstage.

* * *

The sun had set. Zootennial Stadium was a blue beacon in the night, multiple lights illuminating the impressive rolls of its water-drop design. It was built on the harbour; the sea glistened serenely as Finnick's van parked in a nearby alley. Fast and quiet. He had earned his pay.

Nick had been staring at his phone for the last few minutes, a text to his mother sitting unwritten. When the van stopped, he closed his eyes and pocketed his phone. _Later_.

He opened the door and the smell of salt hit him. It was almost comforting. It reminded him he wasn't dreaming. "I guess... wait here, pal. I don't know how this is gonna go."

"You might want to hightail it?"

"Hope it doesn't come to that." Nick surveyed the distance to the stadium. "Yeah. Here. No closer. Cops could show up any minute."

"Say no more," grumbled Finnick. "I'll be quiet."

"Good."

Finnick turned to him. His expression flickered, but didn't change. "Nick."

"Yeah?"

He paused for a moment. Finally, he settled on his advice. "Don't die."

Nick couldn't fight off a smile. "Thanks. I'll try."

"Mmh."

With that, Nick moved around to the back of the van and opened the rear doors. He pulled out a wheeled bin, filled to the brim with red fabric.

He pushed it towards the stadium, the wheels shaking aimlessly before settling into a path. "Catch you later, Finnick."

"Yeah. Good luck in there."

"Thanks." Nick frowned. "Gonna need it."

He avoided the public entrances, all fifteen of them. Instead – with calm confidence – he approached a bay in the back, by the staff parking. Deliveries.

A lion stood guard, scruffy and scrawny. A high-vis vest designated him as one of the stadium's stewards – the fact it fit badly indicated he was a new hire. College student, probably.

Skittish. No supervisor in sight. Perfect.

Nick trundled the trolley up, catching his eye. Normally, his approach for larger predators was to stay small and meek. Appeal to common ground while always making it clear they were in charge.

But generalizing was useless. Hustling was built on fitting the method to the mark. Like a tailored suit, almost.

And this guy was _not_ in charge.

"Hey," said Nick brusquely. "Which way to Ancillary Storage?"

The lion stared. "Uh," he said.

Nick rolled his eyes. " _Ancillary Storage_. C'mon, man, some time today."

"Right! Um." He cringed. "I'm not sure."

Nick shrugged. "Forget it. I'll figure it out." With that, he went to push past.

The lion frowned, mustering enough nerve to step into his path. "Uh! Wait. Are you – what are you doing?"

Nick shot him his best glare, letting him wither under it for a few seconds. "...What does it look like I'm doing? You think I'm carting around this box of novelty scarves for the good of my health?"

"Right, okay, but..." He frowned nervously. "You're really making a delivery now?"

"Yes," said Nick testily, "I'm really making a delivery. Now."

"There's a concert on?"

"That's great!" snapped Nick. "But I'm out here trying to make my last delivery of the day so I can go home. So kindly step aside."

"I–"

"What is it? A security issue? I got my permit right here." He flashed some documentation – not the right documentation. A permit to sell seafood past the hour of 5pm, as it happened. He didn't give the lion enough time to notice. "That good enough for you?" he said, slipping it back into his pocket.

"Uh – yeah." The lion shuffled aside, eyes and ears low. "Sorry. Have a good night."

"Thanks, pal." He smiled. "You too."

Moments later, he was inside. He pushed the bin down the corridor, glancing around. Confirming there was no-one else around, he coughed loudly – and two long ears emerged from the fabric.

After a quick swivel, the ears removed themselves from the bin, bringing with them the rest of Judy Hopps. She dropped to the floor, careful to land on her good foot, and brushed strips of red off her outfit. "I can't believe that worked."

"I can't believe _you_ worked," muttered Nick reflexively. Judy looked up, light catching her visor, and he shifted. "Sorry. Tired. Quip capacity frazzled."

"I'll find it in my heart to forgive you." She took out her phone, then looked to Nick. "And you're sure this is a good idea?"

"No. But I think it's the right one."

"Yeah. Sounds about right." She turned on the phone, for the first time in hours. "There. GPS will kick in soon, and the ZPD will know I'm here. Then they can swoop in and arrest all of us, including you, probably."

"Yeah," said Nick miserably.

She glanced around. "Okay. Where d'you think the main security station is? The sooner we get to the cameras–"

"–the sooner you find Doug, I know." Nick pointed down the hallway. "Should be that way, up the first flight of stairs. Using the cameras, you'll hopefully get the drop on him." He nodded. "Well. Good luck."

"'Good luck'?" Judy's voice sounded small. "Why did you say that?"

 _What, want bad luck instead?_ offered Nick's brain, but he pushed it aside. Something in Judy's tone made him pause. "I, uh... y'know. You'll probably have to fight Doug."

"Yeah." She took a step closer. "And what are you doing?"

He blinked, a lot. Probably too much. "I was... gonna keep an eye on things outside." _From a safe distance._ "Y'know..." _Like a coward._ "Doesn't that make sense?"

"Not really." She shrugged her little shoulders. "Follow me to the security station, at least. If they let you stay, you can keep an eye on the cameras."

That was a good plan. It made Nick's gut twist with fear. He tried not to show it.

"Look, there's... This stadium's got like a million employees, including security. And the cops are on their way, and Lionheart probably has a few guys, and you're... you. I don't see what I can bring to the table, here." He swallowed. "I... I know I promised you twenty-four hours. And I'm not gonna leave! But... c'mon, Podunk." His voice was hoarse. "I'm useless."

Judy sighed. She dipped her head, then looked up at him. Stance firm.

"You are a lot of things, Nick Wilde. You are cowardly and traitorous and untrustworthy and an idiotic jerk who can't make good decisions–"

"Fair," he said evenly.

"–but you are _not_ useless. You saved me from the ZPD, you brought me right to Weaselton's apartment. You got me past that guy just _now!_ That's all you. _Your_ skills. If you hadn't decided to help me, I'd be in a jail cell, and there'd be no-one who could save Gazelle."

He bit his lip. "And if you hadn't decided to help _me_..."

"Yeah. You've... yeah." She lifted her visor, looking him in the eye. She wasn't upset. Just steady. "You've done a lot of stuff you can't be proud of. To me, and I don't know who else. But I can tell you've been trying to make up for it. Honestly. And... I would really prefer to have you close by."

She was looking at him. His mouth felt dry. "But... aren't you scared?"

"Of course I am. This is all pretty terrifying. But I'm not just scared for me. Hiding helps no-one but myself." She clicked her visor back down. But he could hear the smile in her voice. "Besides, that's the great thing about this helmet – no-one can see how scared I am."

Nick took a deep breath. She was an idiot. A dangerous, reckless, obliviously suicidal idiot. That had never changed.

And, in many ways, she was much smarter than he was.

"You're right," he said resolutely. Or as resolutely as he could, anyway. "It's scary, but if we don't do something, it'll only get scarier."

"Exactly."

"So let's do this. I'll... I'll try to help." They shared a nod. Nick centred himself. Then he drew his shock pistol and Judy screamed.

Nick frowned and looked down and screamed louder. It was not the shock pistol.

It was Jesse's pellet gun.

"Why do you have that?!" hissed Judy.

"I must've taken it by accident!" He shoved it back into his belt, pulling his shirt over it. "I am _not_ waving that thing around. I'll think of something else."

"Whatever! Let's go."

They ran down the corridor. They passed no-one. Nick knew these hallways should be filled with security, but the only sentinel so far had been a luckless intern. This was odd. Unnerving. But he said nothing. He was almost afraid to point it out.

They soon came to the security station. Judy, being Judy, didn't hesitate before pushing open the door.

"Hello? Sorry, I know we're not supposed to be back here, but–"

She trailed off. The room was empty.

Judy looked around, Nick close behind her. Every chair was vacant. Even the desks and tables were clear. The main security console was not only unmanned, it was switched off. A dozen screens sat idle, nothing but black mirrors.

"What the...?" She turned to Nick. "Where is everyone?!"

He ran a hand down his face. There was a chill in his gut, but he was getting better at ignoring it. "If I had to guess, I'd say Bellwether – if it _is_ Bellwether – called in some favours. If the cameras are off, they have free reign. No footage of Doug doing his thing..."

Judy gestured furiously, with both paws, to the machine. "Then turn it back on!"

"Oh, uh–!"

Nick hopped up to the console. He pressed a button. Nothing happened.

"Is it plugged in?"

Judy ducked down, wiggling into the space behind the console. Seconds later, there was a click, and the machine began to whirr.

Nick nodded and set to work. He was no expert, but the buttons were all labelled. Soon the screens were back online.

"Heh! Guess you were right about teaming up. With your ability to crawl behind things and my button-pressing, we'll..." Nick's smile died. His eyes fixed on a screen, his breath caught in his throat. "Oh god."

"What? _What?!_ " Judy ran back to him, almost tackling him. "What's wrong?"

He pointed, and she looked. The screen showed a overhead view of the stage. Swirling fog. Blaring lights. Gazelle, her dancers, the visible audience members staring in horror. One tiger on his hands and knees – roaring.

"We're too late."


	12. Seeing Red

Conall maintained the correct posture. Eyes forward, shoulders broad. Hands behind his back. Exactly how the Mayor's most senior bodyguard should look.

But good god, this was boring.

It was dark backstage. Conall liked Gazelle's music as much as the next Zootopian, but the concert was considerably less interesting from here. The curtains were down, blocking any view of the show. The four of them waited for their cue. Lionheart's little speech after the first song.

He glanced over to the other guard. Ulfric, almost as dark as their black suits, in sharp contrast to Conall's white fur. Ulfric was a professional. He was always focused, and Conall appreciated that. But there was no humour to him whatsoever. He didn't even seem to understand sarcasm. Conall repressed the urge to sigh, keeping his face stoic.

He missed Randy.

He had been there that day; the first infection. Right in Lionheart's limousine. Randy, his partner, his closest friend. Suddenly nothing more than a monster.

Conall helped Lionheart contain the situation. He contacted his cousin Gary and his... associates. He was foundational to setting up that operation. And then, once it was rolling, he never saw it again. Conall was on Lionheart's official payroll, and the Mayor kept the two realms strictly separate.

Obviously, it was impossible to keep Conall out of the loop when he had witnessed the madness first-hand. But he liked to think Lionheart would include him anyway. Lionheart trusted his boys. Not like those idiots in the City Hall. Not like...

Conall's eyes wandered to Bellwether, standing just to Ulfric's left. She seemed to be enjoying herself, nodding her little head along to the muffled music.

She seemed harmless. Always had.

Lionheart had collared Conall before they drove here, telling him Bellwether was to be watched closely. The warning had been simultaneously vague and very, very definite. Lionheart was good at that kind of thing. He was a politician.

But so was Bellwether. One with the most toothless, unobjectionable, _kumbaya_ policies Conall had ever heard. Maybe the pressure was getting to Leodore. Maybe the canny planning protecting the city had finally given way to paranoia.

Conall would follow his orders. Like always. But he was starting to grow restless, not helped by his complete boredom.

Of course, in Conall's profession, boredom was good. Boredom was an ideal to strive for. It meant nothing was going wrong.

Conall quickly missed the boredom when he heard, clearly and distinctly over the ongoing music, the sound of screams.

The four of them tensed. Lionheart strode toward the curtain before Conall could stop him. Pulling it back revealed a nightmare.

As the backing track merrily played on, one of the dancers convulsed on the stage, clutching his neck. Two of his partners went to help him – and the tiger burst up, claws out. Drawing blood.

The audience fell into immediate chaos. Conall watched closely, senses on full alert, but it all happened so fast. The two injured dancers fell – one stumbling backwards over a light fixture, the other dropping in numb shock.

The last dancer planted himself in front of Gazelle, but the fear in his eyes was clear. And when the savage tiger pounced for him, he was soon knocked from the stage.

Gazelle stood alone, eyes wide, clutching her microphone too tightly. The tiger was low to the floor, snarling. Conall readied himself to intervene, but he doubted much could be done.

Then rescue arrived from a front row seat.

Shrieking like a banshee, a cheetah exploded from the audience and tackled the beast. Two stubby but powerful arms wrapped around its neck, catching it in an effective hold. Vital seconds. But it wouldn't last.

"Oh, gosh!" squealed Bellwether. "We – we need to leave!"

"Not yet." Lionheart's eyes were hard. He hadn't given up. "Boys, on my command–"

* * *

Five minutes ago, Doug had arrived. Doug had never been backstage before. He liked it.

He liked the darkness. He liked the anonymity – as long as he looked busy, he was invisible. And he definitely liked how the catwalk gave a perfect, elevated position over his targets.

Doug wanted to just dose Lionheart. End things quickly. But Bellwether knew what she was doing. She said it was better to target those around him. So, not for the first time, Doug aimed at a bodyguard.

One minute ago, as they watched through the curtain, Doug had surveyed his targets. The white wolf was close to Lionheart, too visible. But the black one was hanging back. With a quick and casual glance around, ensuring he was unseen, Doug drew his pistol.

Half a second ago, Doug had fired.

The shot was perfect – as always – nailing Ulfric low on the neck. The evidence trickled down his back, out of sight as he fell to all fours.

* * *

Lionheart's order never came. Bellwether let out a shrill scream, her eyes wide with horror. "Oh **god!** What's wrong with him?" she cried out, her little voice wavering.

A small, disgusted part of Lionheart had to admit she was an excellent actor.

Conall had just enough time to yell "Not again!" before the wolf reared, lunging for Lionheart. Conall intercepted it, tackling it to the floor.

"Conall–!"

"Go, sir!" He held it down, but it bucked. Getting loose. " **Go!** "

Lionheart froze, eyes wide. "I'm not leaving you."

Conall looked his employer in the eye – and, for a moment, seemed fiercer than the beast he was wrestling. "Get. To. _Safety_."

His face, his growled command, brought Lionheart back to reality. He was right. This was bad; two cases, in immediate succession and close proximity.

Contagious.

Lionheart knew he had to leave. With a grim nod toward Conall, he ran – onto the stage. Gazelle was still in danger. Couldn't let her get hurt. Bad publicity.

She was staring at the tiger, its wild eyes fixed on her as it struggled in Clawhauser's grip. He tried to yell something, but between physical exertion and an overwhelming storm of emotions, all that came out was a incoherent shriek.

Lionheart grabbed Gazelle by the shoulders, shaking her out of her shock. "We need to move."

"That's..." Her eyes were wide. "That's my friend."

"Trust me. It isn't."

He practically pulled her backstage; she looked to the other dancers, but none followed. Lionheart steered her around the two wolves, still struggling on the floor, and lead her to the back corridors.

The music still pounded from the stage, but it didn't – couldn't – mask the other noises. Yelling. Roaring.

A sudden crash.

Gazelle's eyes were wide. "That cheetah – is he okay?"

"Forget him," said Lionheart. "Focus on yourself."

They ran through the back corridors, searching for help. None came. The theatre staff had already fled. The security team was mysteriously absent. The exits were much farther than the tiger.

When all hope seemed lost, they turned a corner and saw Judy Hopps.

In one hand, she clutched her cellphone. Nick had stayed by the cameras, remotely guiding her on the fastest path to the stage. It was good to have her phone back, but she had nothing to clip it to. She missed her belt.

Judy wobbled up excitedly, her balance thrown by her injured ankle. Her voice shook with nervousness. Not from the tiger.

" _Gazelle!_ I'm such a huge fan of your work also come with me if you want to live!"

Gazelle just blinked. Lionheart glared at Judy. "God. Gary did this, didn't he? The sentimental idiot. If I die here, I'll fire him. Don't think I won't."

"No-one's dying," said Judy resolutely. "Where's Bellwether?"

"Yes! Good point! She's right–"

Lionheart glanced around. No sheep.

"Son of a bitch," said Lionheart, unhelpfully.

A roar pierced the air, cutting off further discussion. Judy ears stayed tall. "I'll deal with her later. Move, _move!_ "

She led them down the corridor, ignoring every pang of protest her ankle produced. She had lives to save. Pain was unimportant.

They ran. It wasn't enough. Her ears made out the sound of claws on concrete, of pounding paws and rushing muscles. The tiger was gaining.

"Nick!" She limped faster than most mammals could run. "Where to?!"

Back in the security station, Nick hurriedly searched the cameras. The stadium was a maze, and the tiger was coming from the worst possible angle – it blocked all the immediate exit routes. Panicking, he glanced away, and his eyes landed on the door. The frame was solid steel, the door itself made of heavy wood. Secure.

"Back the way you came!" said Nick in his phone. "We can fortify this room until help arrives!"

He expected resistance. Judy wasn't one to hide, and he definitely assumed the others wanted to leave. But Judy just nodded and turned on her heel. Lionheart and Gazelle followed.

Nick watched as they came to a nearby corridor. He abandoned the cameras, moving to the door to see them turn the corner. The surge of relief was short-lived. The tiger was right behind them.

"C'mon, c'mon!" He hovered in the doorway, claws against the frame. He jumped back to let them pass – Judy, Gazelle, Lionheart, the tiger wait _no_

With a sudden pounce, it went for Gazelle, knocking her to the ground. Judy flew in with a kick – and bounced off. It was too strong, too much furious muscle. She danced back on her bad leg and tried to build momentum.

But Lionheart moved first. With surprising grace, he swept in and landed a right hook on the tiger's head. It reeled for a moment. Then it growled and pounced for him instead. He held it back briefly, but his balance failed and then the tiger was pinning him. With a swipe of one huge paw, it slashed at Lionheart's face. He hissed in pain, pulling his forearms in defensively. But it wouldn't be enough.

Nick stared, his heart in his throat. Unprotected, cornered in this tiny room, the savage predator would kill them all.

The Mayor. The city's icon. And Judy.

His terror fought his inferiority complex and the inferiority complex won. The choice was obvious.

"Hey! _Hey!_ " Nick darted up to the tiger, and – cursing himself – grabbed its tail. He pulled it roughly, and the tiger reared. "Over here, ugly!"

"Nick?!" Judy looked up, ears tall. "What are you doing?!"

Nick ran to the door, waving his arms. Into the corridor. "I'm right here! I'm small and bright orange and I'm yelling at you! Come get me!"

The tiger came straight for him. So did Judy. She was coming, trying to save him. How was she so _fast_ , even with that bad ankle? Why did she keep trying?

Why wouldn't she just stop?

He was clear of the door. So was the tiger. Massive, deadly, fangs sharp and inevitable. It bore down in a pounce, a wall of orange. And under the orange came a red bullet.

She tackled him.

Nick felt her body slam into his, small and surprisingly dense. Then he felt the tiger sail over him. Then, the floor. Still alive, then.

"Go!" Judy was dragging him back to his feet. "Go go _go!_ " She shoved him forward and he ran back to the security room, almost by instinct. He turned – and he saw it.

He saw every second, rich and vivid. It was so fast, so brutal, but it felt too slow. His brain force-fed him every tiny detail as Judy tried to turn on her ankle and lost her balance and stumbled straight into the tiger's jaws.

It bit down.

The full force of the tiger's bite crushed her tiny body, covering her torso diagonally. Mostly on her chestpiece, but Nick saw how one fang cleared the kevlar and pierced through the bodysuit. Natural knives. Judy's hands spasmed, and her phone fell to the floor. The screen shattered.

And she screamed. Dear god, she screamed.

It was high-pitched and raw and almost unearthly. It didn't sound like Judy's voice, her wry humour, her burning anger, her unstoppable drive. In that moment, there was nothing left. It was the pre-programmed shriek of a dying rabbit.

A blind scream of agony.

Nick watched in nauseous horror as the tiger shook her, flecks of blood in the air. More angry than hungry, it flung her aside with a sudden flick of its jaws. Judy's limp body spun. She hit the steel doorframe face-first. Her visor cracked, a pale cobweb springing out of the black glass.

She crumpled – but inside the room. Nick moved. With unknown strength in his arms and a hoarse scream coming from somewhere deep, he slammed the door shut. It closed.

Then it shook.

The tiger was throwing itself against the door. Nick stared, panic rising within him. Then Lionheart pushed him aside. With a screech of metal legs, he pushed a desk against the frame, then went to get another. Nick turned his attention to Judy. The blood slowly pooling beneath her.

Lionheart worked silently, and soon he had three desks piled against the door, with a chair wedged under the handle for good measure. He examined it, satisfied. His hand wandered to his cheek – and found blood. He stared for a moment at his fingers, then yanked an ornate white handkerchief from his jacket pocket. He pressed it against his gashes, staining it red.

The tiger was still against the door, but the barricade held. Lionheart moved away, eyes drawn to the cameras. He scanned them, taking in the chaos – then smiled quietly. Among the fleeing mammals, he saw Conall stumbling towards an exit. He was injured, bleeding, but clearly the savage wolf hadn't bested him. He had done his job, so Lionheart didn't begrudge him leaving. He was just happy his boy was safe.

Unfortunately, that was not the general vibe of the room.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," said Nick, as Judy's blood seeped through his fingers and stained his fur. "She's dying, she's _dying_ –"

"Stay calm," said Gazelle. She knelt. With brisk motions, she took hold of Judy and rested her on her lap. The chestpiece was mangled, the imprint of the tiger's jaws warping the material and crushing Judy's chest. Gazelle unclipped it and tugged it off. The bodysuit stayed on. Instead, Gazelle tore it open, widening the existing hole in the material. The red revealed the wound low on Judy's torso.

She examined the gash, but quickly. Too much blood, not enough time. Her first instinct was to use her own clothes, but her sparkling stage outfit was too sparse. Instead, without looking up, she reached out to Lionheart with one hand. "Mister Mayor, your tie, please. Now."

"Oh – uh, sure." Lionheart loosened his tie. It was expensive. He had spares. He tossed the red fabric to Gazelle, who quickly repurposed it into a tourniquet. She wrapped it tightly around Judy's stomach, stemming the bleeding. But not stopping it.

"That's the best I can do. With a wound this serious, we'll need full medical assistance within half an hour at most."

Nick gaped. His mouth stirred uselessly for a moment, but for once he couldn't shape his thoughts into a snappy quip. "Where did...?"

Gazelle smiled grimly. "Well... I wasn't always playing to fancy stadiums. Put it that way."

Judy was mumbling, breathless. Nick saw her fumbling with her cracked helmet and he reached over.

"I got it, Fluff, don't worry..."

He removed it gently, and his stomach turned. Judy's fur was matted with sweat, her eyes wild yet glassy. She looked him in the eye and her entire body wracked, like she was suppressing a sob.

"Nick... Nick, you're right, you're _right_."

"Hey, take it easy." He swallowed. "You're – you'll be okay, Podunk, just–"

"No!" She gasped, clutching her side. But she forced herself to keep going. "You're right! About everything! About me!"

"Hopps, you're just panicking, try to stay calm–"

"But you were right, you were always right, I should've – I'm so stupid." A breath. Too strained. "Everybody sees through my secret identity – you and Mr Big and the ZPD, everybody, it's useless! _Useless!_ It never worked. Never." Her face twisted. Tears fought their way out. "I'm an idiot and I can't save anyone and it just – it _hurts_ , Nick, I can't do this any more, it hurts too much and I just want to go home. I miss my parents! I miss – I'm gonna die here. I'm gonna _die_ here, god, please–"

"Judy..." Nick felt ill. "It's – it's gonna be okay."

" **No!** No, it's not. Don't lie. Don't." Her anger was gone, bleeding out to the floor. She stared at him with two dull purple eyes, tears streaming down both cheeks. "...You were right. I really am just a dumb bunny."

Nick tried to say something, anything – lies had always come so easily before – but words failed him. He stared back, his face betraying him. Gazelle knelt in silence, her hands on Judy's shoulders. But nothing more could be said.

"Tsk!"

Lionheart was watching the camera displays – specifically, an external shot of the street outside. The ZPD had arrived, cruisers painting the night red and blue. Officers helped to guide the evacuation, rocks in the flow of mammals.

But none came close.

"Morons! Lazy, overpaid **bureaucrats!** " Lionheart rested his fists on the console, nostrils flaring. "This is _exactly_ why I kept Bogo out of the loop. Always sticking to protocol, always–"

"Whoa, whoa." Nick's ears flattened. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong! This place is surrounded by _Zootopia's Finest_ , but they aren't gonna actually come inside until they're 'properly mobilized'." He glared at the screen. "Meaning we're stuck here."

Gazelle's voice was soft. "They must know people are still in danger. I'm sure they'll be here in just a few minutes."

The door banged and the desks rattled and through the wood, the tiger growled.

Lionheart shot her a look. "Honey, we're all gonna be _dead_ in just a few minutes. Unless someone has any bright ideas?"

"There."

They all turned to Judy. She kept one paw clutched to her injury, but with the other, she pointed to the wall. Next to a metal set of shelves was an airvent. The grate gleamed.

Her voice was rough, and throaty, but she pushed herself to speak. "Safe way out. Get help. Maybe... distract tiger."

"Yes... yes, perfect!" Lionheart nodded along, visualizing it. "If you leave through a grate that's far enough away, you could slip off undetected. Looks big enough for you, too. Isn't supposed to be, but this building is not up to code." He paused. "Don't ask me how I know that."

Nick frowned. "That's great, but–"

" _ngh_ "

Judy was trying to stand. One paw against her side, she curled up, planting her feet. She stood – and immediately lost her balance, letting out a pitiful cry.

Gazelle caught her before she fell, but Judy angrily shook her off. " _No!_ No. I have to – I need to–" She tried again, and made it three steps toward the shelves. Then her knees gave out and she crumpled. She coughed violently, bordering on a retch. Nick was assaulted by visions of her vomiting blood.

He knelt, blocking her path. "Judy. Judy, please, just–"

"Move." She glared at him, and he could see, _smell_ it all – the literal blood, sweat and tears. "I need to do this."

"You can't!"

"Doesn't – matter!" she hissed. "My choice. My job. I save people. _Move_."

Gazelle took hold of her again. Judy tried to break loose, but her strength was draining by the second. All she could do was squirm.

But even squirming was dangerous. The more she fought, the less time she had. Nick struggled to keep thinking, to find some way to stop her. He had known from that first night, the first time she saved him, that she was going to get herself killed. But there had to be a way to stop her. He needed one.

His eyes went to the cameras – they were a lot easier to look at than Judy. On a lower screen, he saw it.

There was a similar vent on the same floor, in a dark room clearly used for storage. Helmets. Padded armour. Baseball bats.

The room was full of sports equipment and bad ideas.

It rose in him, inescapable, piecing itself together no matter how much he resisted. He glanced back to Judy, still glaring at the airvent, and knew there was no other choice.

"I've had a lot of terrible ideas in my life. But I think... this is the second-worst."

He stood, loosening his tie. "Lionheart, let the ZPD know where we are. Make sure they bring medical help. Gazelle, keep Judy breathing. Please."

"Nick?" said Judy. Her voice sounded so small now. "What...?"

He walked to the shelves, letting his tie drop to the floor. It landed in rabbit blood. With a few steady motions, he climbed the shelves and opened the grate.

He hesitated, looking back at the others. Trying to ignore the looks they were giving him. "Somebody tell my mom... I'm sorry. For everything."

And then he was gone.

It sounded like Gazelle – maybe Judy? – called out to him, but once he shut the grate, the words were unintelligible. Just noise.

 _Get moving_

He crawled forward. It was dusty in here. Of course it was. It was an airvent. He was probably going to lose the element of surprise just by sneezing.

The tiger was still there. He could hear it below him, growling. The occasional **slam** as it threw itself against the door. He kept moving.

It was long, and agonizing – the vent was definitely more suited for Judy – but he finally found the other grate. He pushed it open and fell gracelessly to the floor, landing painfully on his ribs. He bit back a cry. Instincts urged him to stay silent.

He pulled himself up and immediately began to sort through the equipment in the room. Shelves, crates, lockers – he moved through them with practised efficiency. Most of the equipment was intended for mammals far larger than him. Some was too small. That left a narrow range of items he could actually use. Twenty years of dealing had led to this moment. Find the three useful needles in a dimly-lit haystack.

The stadium saw the biggest teams in the area, all of which had their own equipment in their own colours. This inventory was just for events run on-site. Field trips, summer camps, sports clubs. Kids' stuff. And a young wolf was the approximate size and shape of a terrified adult fox.

Before long, Nick had covered himself in as much padding as possible. The material was intended to protect against hockey pucks, not savage tigers. But it made him feel safer, and that was valuable in of itself. Jesse's Night Howler pistol, still on his belt, dug into his side. He tried to ignore it. He found hockey gloves and cleated boots, then a pair of football shoulder pads for good measure, bright white plastic against the black.

But football and hockey helmets had grates rather than full visors. Something about that unsettled him. Luckily, there was some old fencing equipment in one corner. A faded white helmet caught his eye, the steel mesh so fine it appeared black. He slipped it on, his ears fitting into triangular slots. It stank of sweat and safety.

He hovered over the foils, too, but not for long. They were spindly and delicate, probably not useful even if he knew how to fence. Instead, he went for something simpler, more reliable. He pawed through the collection of baseball bats until he found a fine aluminium specimen, slightly too large but comforting in his grip.

And like that, Nick was as ready as he was going to be. Buried under protective gear with only his tail on display.

" _Black and white and red all over,_ " he thought. It wasn't even a good joke. But he wished there was someone to hear it.

After taking a deep breath – and reminding himself how musty this helmet was – he crept for the door and left. Time to move.

He passed through ugly concrete corridors, quick but quiet. Zootennial Stadium was a beautiful building, no expense spared on aesthetics. But these hallways weren't for crowds. There was no paint, no needless niceties. The cold skeleton of the building.

The exits were clearly marked. It wouldn't take long to get outside. But not long after leaving the storage room, his ear perked. Someone else was here.

He stopped. Aside from the distant growls of the tiger, the stadium seemed deserted. Everyone had gotten to the safety of the police cordon – or he thought they had. Was someone in trouble?

Nick clenched his paws, gripping the bat tightly. Then he sighed and turned around.

He jogged around a corner – and almost tripped over his own padded legs as he stumbled back into cover. Just ahead of him, outside a supply room, was Dawn Bellwether and an unfriendly-looking ram he assumed was 'Doug'.

Bellwether was glaring up at the other sheep. "You're being a baby. No-one has anything on us, we can just stroll out!"

"Police aren't the problem. The tiger is. Too fast, too dangerous." With a jingle of metal, he produced a set of keys. "Safer to wait it out. Can't run Zootopia from a coffin."

"Well, you have a point there..."

Nick's eyes narrowed. They had the same idea. Pick a solid door and hide behind it. But they were moving slowly.

He had a chance to stop them.

His first instinct was to just leave. Get help and let the police handle things. But Judy, in her suicidal narcissism, actually made a good point. He _couldn't_ trust the police. This was the Assistant Mayor. She had connections, power. But not here. Here, she was vulnerable.

But he had no plan. Once he stepped out of cover, they would see him. A baseball bat wasn't enough. He needed a weapon with range.

...He had one.

Fighting his way through the padding, deathly afraid of any noise, Nick pulled out the Night Howler pistol. One pellet left. A solution. But not one he liked.

He had to act now. But he had seen, first-hand, what this serum did.

Could he really do that to someone?

Doug was unlocking the door. Time was running out. Bellwether was impatient. "This is all so anti-climactic. That stupid cheetah ruined my glorious spectacle... and did Woolter and Jesse even finish their jobs?"

"Not sure. Been quiet." Doug opened the door. "Once we're done here, I'll make sure they stay that way."

That was enough. This guy was a murderer. Nick felt a twist of revulsion and clung to it. Then, taking a breath, he stepped out of cover and aimed.

But Doug moved terrifyingly fast. As soon as Nick left cover, he turned on his heel and drew his own pistol. Nick thought he had the chance to fire, but the sheer speed of the ram surprised him and he didn't react in time.

And then Nick found himself in a stand-off. One gun in his hands and another pointed at his head.

Bellwether turned slowly. "...Whaaaat is happening?"

Nick fought to keep his voice even. Low and husky. "Both of you, on the ground. Now."

She scoffed. "Uh, no. Doug, who even is this idiot?"

"A concerned citizen," growled Nick, and felt better. A little spark of confidence. Intoxicating.

"Uh huh," said Bellwether flatly. She nudged Doug impatiently. "Well? Why aren't you firing?"

"Mutually assured destruction." Doug's voice was as level as ever, as though he was explaining the workings of the internal combustion engine. "If I fire, he fires."

She sneered. "I thought you were the best."

"I am," said Doug. "But that get-up he's wearing minimizes my chance of a clean shot. Besides, he's shaking like a leaf."

Nick snarled, but it was undeniable. It was taking so much energy to contain his terror. Even his tail was trembling.

"That means his aim's probably garbage," Doug continued. "Solid chance he'll miss me. But we can't risk that. That's the gun I gave Jesse. If I get tagged with Night Howler – even if I kill him first – that's bad news for you. Your only protection becomes another threat. And there's proof prey can go savage."

Bellwether clicked her tongue. "Yeah. That sounds pretty bad. Then the question is: why isn't _he_ firing?" She smirked. "But I think I can guess. You can practically smell it off him. He's a coward."

Nick cursed himself, quietly thankful his face was obscured. He knew this would happen. He wasn't Judy. The first sign of trouble and already he was falling apart, failing. It was too hard, too alien. He couldn't do this. He wasn't strong enough. He just needed a second to _think_ , to–

Oh.

He let out a low laugh, earning him a dubious look from Bellwether. Doug didn't react. Not even when Nick graduated from a chuckle to full, almost manic laughter.

"Afraid you won't hit me? Tell you what. I'll save you the bullet."

Doug's eyes narrowed. Bellwether blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You want a savage predator, right? I'll give you **savage!** "

Moving viciously, he tugged his helmet at the neck and shoved the pistol into his mouth.

His finger twitched.

Nick's whole body spasmed and his eyes widened, regret instantly flashing through them. He bent double, moaning, his grip tightening on the pistol as his other hand flailed. The helmet came loose, exposing his wild expression. His foot slipped and then he was on the floor, growling and gasping and _twitching_.

The two sheep stared.

"Wow," said Doug blandly. "That was really dumb."

" ** _What?!_** " Bellwether spluttered. "Why would he _possibly_ do that?"

"Thought it'd make him stronger, I guess..."

"It's not _magic!_ " She threw her little arms up in exasperation, her voice rising over the sound of Nick's chokes and whines. "All it does is make you angry! He's still just a scrawny fox. He only made himself much easier to kill."

Her lip curled in disgust as she watched him writhing painfully on the floor.

"Speaking of... I'm getting tired of looking at him." She stepped back slightly. "Do you mind?"

"On it. Gun could be dangerous. Let me switch."

Doug kept a knife on his person, as all good henchmen do. He glanced down to click the safety on his pistol and as soon as he did Nick switched off the safety of his own gun, took aim and fired. The shot was clean, nailing Doug's forehead.

He froze, eyes wide. Shock overtook him, the stone of his face cracking in an instant.

"Yeah, my plan was pretty dumb. I admit that." Nick stood, leaving the empty pistol on the floor. He switched to the bat instead. "But you fell for it, so, who's the real idiot?"

Doug spasmed, dropping his gun, then spasmed again and by the third spasm he was on the floor, turning. Bellwether backed away, green eyes wide. Ready to run.

But she didn't have to. When the ram dragged itself to its feet, its rectangular pupils fell on Nick. It huffed, rage tearing through it. Then it charged.

Nick took a breath and focused.

The ram was charging because that's what a savage ram would do, it would charge, it would lower its head and run towards its target in a straight line, and Nick knew from the fight at Cliffside that savage animals didn't recognize weaponry as dangerous, so the baseball bat in his hands meant nothing to the ram, the ram would charge anyway, it would charge straight towards him, and all he had to do was stay calm and wait for the right moment, for the ram to come closer, to ignore his pounding chest and the _horrific_ sounds and danger heading _right towards him_ and to _stay calm_ and the ram was so close and–

 **WHACK**

The bat connected with the side of the ram's skull with a sound that Nick knew he would have to remember forever. The sheep fell, eyes unfocused – but it kept struggling, kept kicking, kept _bleating_. Nick sucked in a breath and lifted the bat with both hands and brought it down hard. The ram went silent.

He dragged his eyes up. By the doorway, Bellwether was watching him with a cold fury. She was slowly clenching and unclenching one fist.

"Three moves."

Nick caught his breath. "What?"

She bared her teeth in a painfully forced smile. "Oh, I'm just saying... I was expecting Judy. I thought _Judy_ would show up, try to stop me. And she'd come at me with all these flips and kicks, just a little dynamo of motion..." Now she was keeping her fist clenched. It was starting to shake. "But instead I got you, some fox _nobody_ , from nowhere. And you killed my favourite employee in only three moves."

He blinked. "...I didn't kill him."

"Oh, did you not _mean_ to?" sang Bellwether, eyes wide with mock concern. "Too nice and cuddly to be a nasty murderer? Well, too bad, numbskull, you knocked half his brains out."

Nick's brow furrowed. No. _No_ , he hadn't – the sheep was a threat, obviously, he needed to be stopped, but kill him? Nick never meant to–

He looked down and saw Doug was still breathing and immediately realized he had been hustled.

Doug had dropped a gun. Doug had dropped an actual firearm loaded with actual bullets which Bellwether had darted forwards to grab. It was too large in her hands. She struggled with the safety as Nick ran forward, bat at the ready. But she was faster, she took aim, and squeezing the trigger with two fingers she fired.

Hockey padding is not bulletproof.

The force knocked him off his feet, the baseball bat clattering away uselessly. The pain was immediate. Intense. It hadn't even hit anything important, it had just grazed him, but it was still a bullet dear _god_ it hurt so **much** this is what he had put Judy through?

Nick brought a paw to his side, feeling the trickle of blood. It didn't seem like a lot, but maybe it was just the beginning. And the pain wasn't paralyzing, just very very sore, but maybe that was just the adrenaline. Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe.

He bit his lip, fighting off reflexive tears. He forced himself to focus. The pain was bad, incredibly bad, but acknowledging it was a luxury he didn't have time for. He pressed against the wound as best he could, stop the blood. He should–

Wait. Blood.

Blood was good. Blood was useful.

The smell of fresh meat, the sound of the gunshot, might actually save his life. But not instantly. There was a murderer standing over him, a gun to his head and death in her eyes, and he had two seconds to buy time.

He expected blind panic. There was a lot of panic. But it wasn't all blind. Within the fear, the frenzied cacophony of his mind, three central thoughts were clear. Fast and sequential, a slot machine for survival.

 _Sadist Slow Beg_

"Please!" he gasped, thrusting out a hand – but not too far. "D-don't kill me. I... I..."

Bellwether glared. Then her lips curled into a smirk. She didn't fire. "Like I thought. You're just a coward who got lucky."

Five extra seconds. Buy more.

 _Egoist Lonely Explain_

He sucked in a breath. "I just – I don't understand how you were able to do all this."

"And you never will," she snarled. Raising the pistol –

 _FAST NOW JOKE?!_

He laughed nervously. "I, ah, don't suppose you're in the market for a new henchman?"

"What?"

"I may be scrawny, but I have other skills." Big grin! "Need a cocktail after a long day of scheming? I'm your guy."

Bellwether stared.

Then she burst out laughing. Despite everything, Nick felt a twinge of pride. He had gotten a laugh out of the toughest possible audience; his own killer.

"You are... something else, foxy. I mean, you don't know when to quit." The light caught her glasses. "But it's over. You're nothing more than an insignificant trash-eater who shoved his nose where it didn't belong. This city will be better off without you. And when I'm through with it, there'll be no-one like you left."

 _Good! Monologue. Prompt_

"Foxes, or vigilantes?"

"Either. Both."

 _...It's coming._

"You won't get away with this, y'know," he said, and meant it. He could hear it, feel the vibrations through the floor. He showed no reaction.

Neither did Bellwether. "Yeah. Sure. Any second now you're gonna whisk me off to prison. Or did you have something simpler in mind?"

Nick said nothing.

"Yeah. Typical pred. Except you don't have the guts for it, do you?" She snickered. "Did you seriously think you were gonna kill me?"

"No," said Nick. He kept his eyes low. "He will."

Bellwether's eyes widened. She finally noticed what Nick had already heard; the sound of four monstrous paws. The tiger burst into view and roared without stopping. It barrelled at her.

Dawn squeaked and lifted the pistol. She managed one shaky shot that only hit the ceiling before Nick moved. He rolled to the side, grabbed the bat, and knocked the gun clean out of her shaking hands. Then he shoved her.

She fell back into the supply room, and the tiger followed. It swiped at her, and she hit the back wall.

Doug's keys were still in the lock. Nick dropped the bat and stood in the frame. For a second, his eyes met Dawn's. The murderer, the cruel mastermind, was gone. Just a woman who didn't want to die.

He shut the door.

As he locked it, the screams started. Muffled by the door, but not enough. He still heard them, felt them lodge in his brain. Just as soon as they began, they stopped.

Silence.

He realized, numbly, that he had to leave a warning. This door would be opened soon enough, by a cop or even some luckless paramedic. With nothing else to hand, he held his fingers to his side and smeared his blood on the door. The wound was already drying. By the time he finished scrawling **TIGer** in dull red, the bleeding had almost stopped.

He trudged away. Alone.

He had never made it outside, but his feet brought him back to the security station. Help was coming now. Both Bellwether and the tiger were gone. It was irrational, maybe even dangerous. But he just wanted to see Judy.

As he approached the door, he heard the sound of furniture moving. Suddenly, the door opened, Lionheart picking through his barricade. He fixed Nick with a huge grin.

"Saw everything over the cameras. Nice work, son. Real nice work."

"Everything...?" mumbled Nick. Fear began to rise in him, replacing numb victory. "Does – what if–?"

"Don't worry about it," said Lionheart, bending down to part his back. "I'll handle it."

"Oh," said Nick.

"Well, no sense wasting time. See you soon, kid! Again, great job. Kudos. Bye."

And like that, he was gone.

Nick headed inside. His eyes met Gazelle's, who was still holding Judy. She hesitated. "Do you need me to stay?"

Nick thought his voice sounded hollow. But it was saying the right words. "Thank you so much for your help. But she needs an ambulance."

She nodded. "Of course. I'll get help." She rested Judy against the wall, and stood. She hesitated for a second, clearly wanting to say more. But time was short. She left.

Nick turned to Judy. She smiled up at him, eyes bleary.

"Hi, Nick... Back so soon...?"

"Yeah. I'm here." He knelt down to her. "I stopped Bellwether. Everything's going to be fine." He reached for her shoulder, but hesitated. His hand hovered over her uncertainly.

"Great. That's great..." Judy sank back against the wall, letting her eyes drift shut. Suddenly she broke into a grin. "Hah...! I just..." She cracked an eye open. The purple sparkled. " _Shhhh_ owed you, huh? All those things you said... I couldn't be a cop, and stuff... and then I, I... _inspired_ you. You saved the city! 'Cause of me."

Nick smiled. He felt tired. Exhausted. "Yeah. All because of you. You really made me look like an idiot, y'know."

"Pssh. Dunno. It's embarrassing, sure, but..." Her eyelid drooped, and she seemed to grow smaller. Her voice dropped to a mumble. "...you look nice..."

Nick felt himself chuckle – a single, small laugh, deep from his chest. "Thanks, Podunk."

Judy didn't reply.

Immediately the fatigue left him, replaced with cold tension. "Judy?!" He nudged her.

To his relief, she squirmed, frowning. "Mnah. Stop. I'm tired."

Nick took a breath – shaky – remembering one of the few things he knew about serious first aid. "Yeah, I bet you are. I am too. But you _can't_ go to sleep, okay? Not now. Not before the doctors get here."

"You're not my mom," said Judy, and then laughed, and then frowned sharply. "Ow."

"I'm serious. Stay with me." He moved closer and took hold of her, anxiety forgotten. He propped her up against his chest, supporting her head. "You have to stay awake. Please."

" _You_ please," she grumbled, eyes stubbornly shut. "Just... gimme a second."

Nick fought of the urge to physically shake her; that would only make things worse. Instead, he channelled his frustration past his other feelings. " _Podunk!_ Listen to me, you brainless hick! If you give up now, everything you've done will be meaningless. No-one will remember you. No-one will care. You'll just be another dumb rabbit. Is that what you want? Huh?!"

"S'fine..." Her speech was getting more and more slurred. "Day's over. Danger's saved. Doesn't matter anymore. It's fine, we're fine... just relax..."

She was fading. He could see the way the light of her eyes, that bright spark of life, was dimming. She had been so energetic for her size, so _alive_. Why did – why –

He growled, trying in vain to focus. Where was that slot machine now? He needed something, anything. One last trick.

Nothing came.

Nick hung his head, eyes screwed shut. He held her close. Some flimsy comfort in these last few moments. It wasn't enough. Not remotely, after everything. But it was all he could do.

His voice was barely more than a whisper. "C'mon, Judy. Carrots. Please."

Silence.

Then she thrust a hand out, drunkenly slapping his arm. "Don't call me Carrots," she muttered.

Nick's mouth twitched. "S... sorry, what was that?"

"I said... _don't_ call me Carrots. Don't."

"Oh, I see." Nick adjusted his grip, gently bringing her closer – and more upright. "You're saying you don't like it when I call you Carrots?"

"It's _mean!_ Stop. I'm _not_ a farmer. I kick people."

He couldn't help but laugh, and that only made her angrier. She was rallying, she was clawing her way back to consciousness, just to fix him with a tiny, furious glare.

"Cute little Carrots..." he wheedled. "That's your superhero name now. I'm gonna tell everybody that's what you want."

"I'm gonna... I'll..." She wheezed. " _Jerkface!_ "

Nick's ear flicked, catching footsteps. He looked up as two bears burst in, a polar and a grizzly. Their uniforms made their profession obvious. Paramedics. Nick felt the tension drain out of him like ice-water.

It was going to be okay.

"What's the nature of the injury?"

It took Nick a second to realise he was being spoken to. In that second, Judy jumped in.

"Tiger bit me. Very hard. Hope my guts don't fall out..."

"I see," said one paramedic with practised professionalism. "Don't worry, ma'am, we're here."

"Thank you. Thank you thank you." Nick felt his heart flutter. The grizzly reached to take Judy and his grip on her tightened. He overrode the sentiment. Time to let go. "I – I kept her from going unconscious."

"Good job," said the polar bear, as his partner unfolded a stretcher. "But, uh... you do know that's just a myth, right?"

"...What?"

"It's better that she's conscious, sure. A responsive patient is preferable, in case we need her medical history or something. But it's not vital to keep them awake. It's a movie myth. At best, it's outdated advice."

Judy laughed, flailing her arm to slap Nick's chest. "Hah! _Idiot_. I can go sleep any time I


	13. Red Letter Day

Judy woke slowly.

She was somewhere soft and warm. Gentle sunlight filtered through the window, yellow curtains framing a perfect blue sky. Walls painted a very particular, very calming shade of green. Lilac bedsheets in a white plastic frame.

On a desk across from her, out of place like it followed her from a nightmare, her helmet. The red still stark, but white snaking through the shattered black glass.

She stirred. Her sleep had been dreamless, pleasant and empty. But seeing her own damaged helmet immediately brought a wave of fear.

It passed as soon as it came – she was alive, wasn't she? That alone was a miracle. Judy turned, then blinked in surprise. Nick.

He was crumpled on a chair next to her bed, fast asleep. He had changed clothes since she last saw him, now wearing a spectacularly awful red shirt made his earlier choices seem sane. The shirt was clean, but his fur was ruffled, uneven.

Still. He looked nice.

She must have made a noise, or shifted too loudly, because suddenly he sprung to life. Panic flashed on his face, but it turned to relief when he saw her. "Carrots! Oh, it's so good to – I'm so glad you – uh–" Giving up, he just gave her a smile. It was the most genuinely happy she had ever seen him. "...Hi."

"Hey." Her voice was rough, and she coughed. "Good to see you, Slick." She returned his smile, then glanced around. "This... isn't jail."

His smile turned grim. "Don't speak too soon." He nodded to her wrist, and she dragged her eyes over. A tiny pair of handcuffs restrained her to her bed.

"Oh." She stared, trying to ignore what her nine year old self would think. But her natural optimism soon kicked in. "Well. Still better than prison, right?"

"Sure. For the record, Bogo wanted to arrest you. He was furious. Like... genuinely terrifying. But you got brought here instead. Guess your injuries, uh..." He cleared his throat. "Guess you were in bad shape."

He pointed over his shoulder, towards the door. The room was empty except for them.

"Used to be a guard in here with us. Changed on the hour, and every one glared daggers at me. I suppose glaring at you would've been pretty pointless. But then Lionheart dropped by, and did... something. After that, I was the only one here."

"Thanks. You didn't have to..." She gingerly repositioned herself, trying to sit up. "What happened, exactly? The last thing I remember is..."

 _The security room. Nick clutching her tightly. Green eyes soft._

"...the security room."

"Right." He shifted position too. "Well, I was trying to keep you conscious when the EMTs arrived. One let slip that you didn't need to stay awake, and then you laughed at me – and hit me – and mocked my valiant efforts to keep you alive. And _then_ you passed out mid-sentence."

"Oh," said Judy.

"Yeah. Bundled you into an ambulance and brought you straight here. They let me ride along, but they yelled at me when they realized I hadn't told them I'd been shot, which I guess is–"

"Whoa, whoa!" Judy tensed, and felt a fresh wave of pain. "You were shot!?"

Nick blinked. Then he smacked his forehead. "How do I _keep_ forgetting that? You'd think it'd be a little more memorable. Here, check it out!"

He lifted his ludicrous shirt to reveal a bandage on his side, the white stark against his orange fur.

She stared. "Nick..."

"No big deal. Just grazed me. Stung like hell, but all I needed were a few stitches." He lowered his shirt with a sheepish grin. "They were more concerned about the, uh, psychological effects. I told them, 'Hey, I'm already drowning in mental and emotional problems, what's one more?'"

Judy returned his smile, but the humour didn't reach her eyes.

"I stuck around after that," he continued. "You were in surgery. Amazingly, that fang didn't hit anything important, so–"

Her ears perked. "So I won't be here long?"

He raised his hands. "Yeah. You'll _only_ be off your feet for a couple weeks."

"...Oh."

"You still got _gored_ , Carrots. And crushed, and bruised, and flung into a door, and had a rabid wolf chew on your foot." He sat back. "Well, actually, the door thing wasn't so bad. The helmet took most of that impact – no head trauma. Guess it was a good idea after all."

Judy frowned into empty air. "...Okay. I see."

A little smile. "Try not to sulk too much, okay? I know you're... an active gal, but you're amazingly lucky to walk away with only a few weeks rest and rehab. Since the alternative..." He swallowed, abandoning the sentence.

"Is not walking away," she finished. "Yeah. I know." She stretched where she sat. "Don't worry about me. I just need to get comfortable, that's all."

"Exactly," he said, smile returning. "Silver lining! You can actually catch up on sleep. I'm guessing you didn't change your habits much since the night you spent on my couch? You went out like a light, Carrots. It's been more than twelve hours."

"Huh." Judy looked up to a clock on the wall. Noon was approaching.

She realized what that meant.

"Nick..." She turned to him, eyes gleaming. "We made our twenty-four hour deal more than twenty-four hours ago. You're off the hook, y'know."

"Thanks for the reminder," he said dryly. "If you're that desperate to get rid of me, I can go hang out in someone else's hospital room. I was just making sure you weren't dead, that's all."

Judy decided against pointing out the obvious; that Nick had stayed overnight, sitting by her side until he fell asleep himself. Instead, she merely smirked. "Sure. Nice shirt, by the way."

"Thanks. My mom dropped it off for me. She was here a couple hours ago. Shame you were still out, I'm sure you would've enjoyed the show. She really tore into me."

He hadn't even gone home to change. Judy didn't point that out, either. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, she had a few good lines." He smiled thinly. "Stuff like 'When I told you to go out and live life, this is _not_ what I meant!'"

She chuckled at that. Nick relaxed a little.

"You, uh... feeling okay?"

"About as good as I could hope, I think. After..." She shook her head, trying to stop the nauseous red memories from coming. "After last night, I'm just glad I'm awake."

"Yeah," said Nick softly. "They patched you up." Another weak smile. "Poured a lot of blood back into you."

"Y'know, I donated blood a couple times. Civic duty. You can't take too much out of one rabbit, but there's lots of rabbits around." She stared at her arm. "Who knows how many people I have in my veins right now..."

Nick's smile strengthened. "Well, isn't that an apt metaphor? You're a real champion of the people now, Hopps." He gestured dramatically, fingers splayed. "The very _blood_ of the city flows through you!"

"Heh..." Judy ran a mental tally of her injuries. "So... my stomach, my blood loss, my ankle? Everything's gonna heal eventually?"

"Eventually. Try to be patient." He glanced upwards. Her heart sank. "They... also took a proper look at your ear."

"Oh," said Judy, and before she could stop him he took out his phone, using the inward camera as a mirror. Judy stared at herself.

There was a hole in her ear. The right. On the inner edge. High. Near the tip.

Forever.

She took it in, trying to get used to it. She had to. It was... smaller than she had thought. Avoiding it had only made it bigger in her mind.

"You have a minimum of hearing damage, amazingly," Nick was saying. She could almost taste his discomfort. "But it's still... I..."

He lowered his phone. The silence was painful. But then Judy looked him in the eye, letting a smirk form on her lips. "You're going to crack so many ear piercing jokes, aren't you?"

For a second, he seemed shocked. But then that classic hustler smirk was shining back at her. "Well, it does look just _super_ trendy."

"I'll pay Koslov back when I see him."

"You'll have to wait. I hear Mr Big decided to go on... vacation. Left just a few hours ago, and took a lot of guys with him." Nick locked his fingers, resting his muzzle on his hands. "Not like him to leave in such a rush. Guess the ground sorta shifted under him. Yesterday, you were just a crazy bunny no-one would even miss, but now..."

"Yeah." She stretched. "I'm gonna tread carefully – that guy is no joke – but I don't think I have anything to worry about."

"What?"

"Oh, I figured it all out a while ago. Because of your awful plan–"

"Sorry," Nick mumbled, reflexively.

"–Mr Big vowed to make an example of me. But then his daughter told him how I saved her life! That must've won me _some_ points, just not enough to call it even. So instead of trying to kill me, he just set the ZPD on my tail." She yawned. "You told me yourself that sometimes he reports crimes against him. And sending me to prison would be a good compromise, right?"

"Uh, yeah." Nick scratched at his neck. "Makes sense. Mr Big probably did file a report on you."

She caught something in his tone. " _'A'_ report?"

Nick shifted in his seat. "...Some of the cops in here weren't so mean. Wolford had the third shift. I know his dad, and his aunt, and like three of his cousins, so..." He trailed off, noticing her expression. "What?"

Her smile didn't waver. "Nothing. Just... of course you do. Go on."

"Right. So he warmed up a bit and I managed to get him chatting." He cocked an eyebrow. "You know a guy named Clawhauser?"

"Yeah. Yeah!" Judy sat up a little. "What about him?"

"Turns out he beat you to the punch. Saved Gazelle before you even got to the stage. Real heroic. You might have competition..."

She blinked. "Wow. Is he okay?"

"Oh, yeah. A bit bruised, but he'll bounce back. Hear he's up for some kinda medal, actually." He smiled. "Definitely got into Gazelle's good books, that's for sure."

Judy settled back into her bed, letting out a breath. "Good. That's good to hear..." She looked back to Nick. "And? That's not everything Wolford told you, is it?"

"No. No, it is not."

Nick's eyes went to the window, and stayed there.

"I don't want to rub it in your face, but... yeah. This wasn't a smart idea. Everyone _did_ know it was you, just from basic logic. And to remove any doubt, you left DNA _everywhere._ Anywhere in the city you've bled – which is too many places – that blood is identifiably from Judy Hopps. The ZPD gathered enough evidence to confirm your identity in, like, an afternoon."

Judy tried to bury her face in her hands, but her handcuffed arm jerked against its restraints, and that made her feel worse. "Oh, god..."

"I know, but–" Nick fished his phone back out, switching from the camera to the web browser. "Silver lining! Again! Everybody knows _you're_ the one who saved the day when the ZPD couldn't. And some of these articles are pretty supportive..."

She perked. "Really?"

"Well, some are more dubious. But there's a lot of enthusiasm for... you." He shook his head, pocketing his phone. "But the underworked arts graduates of the journalistic world have seriously let me down. I've read basically all the online coverage of last night, and there's not a _single_ decent idea for your superhero name. The only one that's any good is 'Red Rabbit', and that's still... eh."

Judy's voice was soft. "I kinda like it."

"Really? No accounting for taste. Personally I think it's way too simplistic. Too Golden Age, y'know? Must be a snazzier option."

"If there is, I never thought of it," she murmured.

She realized her mistake. Nick broke into a huge grin, eyes gleaming. "You little liar! You said you never–"

Judy scowled. "I mean–! Codenames are dumb! This is dumb! Whatever!"

He laughed. "Settle down, Carrots...!"

"Right, right..." She sat back, arms folded. "Don't want to... pull my stitches or something, right?"

"Right. Although maybe they used staples instead. I actually don't know." He shrugged. "Everything I told you was just what I could glean from the staff. I wasn't allowed full access to your information, since that's reserved for spouses and family and stuff. We've got no formal relationship." He smiled thinly. "I don't think we're even officially friends."

Her smile was warm. "Well... I'd be happy to sign the paperwork."

He blinked. "What?"

"To signify that we're officially friends. Bring me the forms, I'll sign them."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled back. "Easy, Carrots. You're still woozy. You have to be of sound mind _and_ body, right? I don't want to take advantage of you."

She laughed. "Yeah, like... I find myself at an amusement park with you or something, with no idea how it happened, and you say 'Don't you remember? We're _friends!_ You signed the paperwork!'"

He shook his head with mock gravitas. "Fate worse than death."

"Have to help you move house..."

"Ugh."

"Listen to your problems and pretend I care..."

"Horrifying!"

They chuckled, then trailed into silence. It was comfortable. But Nick never knew comfort for long. Thoughts crept back in, scratching at the back of his skull; what had gone unsaid since she woke. He took a breath.

"...Listen,"

"Don't."

Nick stared. "But–"

"You don't have to say it." She smiled quietly. "I know you're sorry. About Mr Big, and... probably a bunch of other stuff, too. It's fine, Nick."

"Really?"

"Really. To err is mammal. To forgive, divine."

He managed to match her smile. "You and I both know I did a lot worse than 'err'."

"Well, that just makes me all the more godly." She lifted both arms, jingling the cuffs. "Judy Hopps! God-Empress of Zootopia! I decree who lives and dies!"

"Uh... pull it back a little."

"All shall bow before me!" declared Judy, her voice rising. "Any mortal who does not pay me tribute shall feel my burning wrath!"

"...How much pain meds are you on right now?"

Judy laughed, breaking character. Nicked joined in, until the door swung open.

"Well, well. I see you're already on the mend, Hopps!"

Lionheart strode in as though he owned the place (which, arguably, he did). A clean suit. A new red tie. Mane meticulous. Almost no indication of the horror just hours before.

Almost.

Judy gasped. "Mister Mayor...!"

Lionheart had three long scars down his cheek, vivid streaks of pink against his golden fur. To their surprise, he laughed. "What, the scars? Great, huh?"

Nick's brow furrowed. "What?"

"They're magnificent! A constant reminder of how bravely I handled the situation!"

Nick and Judy shared a glance. Judy lay back in her bed. "If you say so..."

"I do."

Lionheart strode up, easily settling by Judy's bedside where he could address them both. Black claws tapped against the white plastic, inches from the shining silver handcuffs.

"Thought I'd stop by to see how you are – and give you an update. Both savage mammals are safely in custody, thanks to joint efforts from the ZPD and, ah... some _experts_ contracted by yours truly. With all other victims secure at Cliffside, that's everyone accounted for."

"That's great," said Judy. "But... will they...?"

"We'll see," said Lionheart. "There's no change to their condition yet. But now that we know what to look for, my doctors should be able to synthesize a cure. Which is great news, because my best doctor _needs_ a cure."

Nick let out a breath. "Here's hoping."

"I do a lot more than hope, son. That's how I got this far. For instance, I'm already planning the next move." He gestured grandly with one paw. "As soon as Avinash is back on his feet, I'm going to forgive him in front of the whole city! What a fantastic photo op that'll be. We're doing everything in our power to ensure the public knows the savage predators were sick, not malicious – and keep the blame on _Bellwether_ , where it belongs." He laughed. "It's not like anyone's gonna believe her side of the story! Not when she's smeared over half the..."

He saw the expressions on their faces and trailed off.

"Mmh. Yes."

Nick forced himself to speak. "That tiger's gonna feel terrible when he comes to. About what he... did."

"It wasn't him," said Lionheart firmly, "and it wasn't his fault. I don't care how many therapists I need to pay to convince him of that, I'll see to it."

Judy smiled up at him. "Thank you."

"And thank _you!_ Because of your efforts, we're dismantling Bellwether's operation as we speak. Your new friends Jesse and Woolter already _gladly_ told everything to the ZPD, simply in exchange for... new accommodation."

He leaned a little closer, eyes glinting.

"As Mayor, I think keeping them in a room full of savage predators overnight probably qualifies as 'cruel and unusual punishment'. But off the record... fantastic work."

He straightened up with a cough.

"If Mister Ramses is similarly pliable once we get the Night Howler out of him, that will be more than enough to settle the record. This was all Bellwether. No disease, no cause for alarm."

"What about the cameras?" asked Nick.

"Yes, yes. We salvaged the footage just fine, so that's also substantial evid–"

"No," said Nick, and swallowed thickly. "They... there's footage of me and her. When I..."

Lionheart smiled. "That there is. Your marvellous work is immortalised on film, don't worry."

"'Don't worry'?" Nick scoffed, ears flat against his skull. Every instinct, both animal and hustler, told him to play nice. Stay on the Mayor's good side. But he couldn't. "You're _kidding_ , right?! I don't want anybody to see that! You gotta – you..." He caught himself, shoving his fear into a calm question. "Are you seriously letting other people see it? It was... illegal."

Lionheart didn't reply immediately. When he spoke, it was slightly too smooth. "Y'know the phrase 'history is written by the winners'? Great news. We won. And as such, we control the narrative." Another smile. "And by 'we', I mean a dedicated staff run by a very intelligent publicist."

Nick blinked. "You're... spinning this."

"That I am. Y'see, Bellwether overplayed her hand. She wanted the whole city to see predator turning on prey. But it backfired spectacularly! Gazelle's already calling for calm, explaining what happened to Avinash, and people are listening... and then there's you two. The bunny and fox who saved us all. Myself included!"

His eyes went to Judy, warm despite his smirk.

"I knew from the moment I saw you that you were destined for greatness. Your methods may be unorthodox, but you've rewarded my faith in you ten-fold. I'm so glad we were able to work together."

He returned to Nick, resting a paw on his shoulder.

"And as for you... well, suffice to say John would be proud."

Nick slid out of his grasp. "With all due respect, I'm not a hero. All I did last night was survive. And I broke a lot of laws to do it."

"Who are you talking to, kid?" replied Lionheart. "I am the law. What I say goes. Oh, which reminds me–"

Moving casually, as though straightening his tie, Lionheart took a tiny key from his jacket pocket and undid Judy's handcuffs.

"There."

Judy stared in awe at her wrist. Free. "Whu..."

"Consider yourself officially pardoned. Well, actually, don't. Paperwork isn't processed yet. Consider yourself unofficially pardoned."

Nick stared too. "You can do that...?"

"Full disclosure – pretty sure my power to pardon crimes is only supposed to cover local ordinances like littering. Not, y'know, assault and battery, resisting arrest, voluntary mammalslaughter, etcetera etcetera..." He waved a hand. "But I think the three of us can agree what's _right_ and what's _legal_ don't always align. I have your backs. That's all you need to know."

Nick couldn't find a reply. Judy could. "Thank you, sir."

"First rule of politics, kids; quid pro quo." Lionheart set the handcuffs aside. "This city owes you. _I_ owe you. So if there's anything else you need, or just want... well, I'm all ears."

'Ears' reminded Nick of an associate – and a promise he'd made. "Um, my friend – he helped us last night, drove us to the stadium? – he could use some money..."

Lionheart raised an eyebrow. "Ah, how selfless of you. Friends first. How much exactly?"

Nick danced out a shrug, readying himself to haggle. Start high and concede ground slowly. "Well, _he_ said one hundred thousand dollars, but I'm pretty sure he was jok–"

"Chump change," he said. "I'll scrounge that, no problem."

Nick waited for the punchline, for Lionheart to laugh and make his real offer. He didn't. "Uh... can _we_ get a hundred thousand dollars?"

Lionheart scoffed. "You guys want to be paid the same amount as your driver, huh? I think you've earned a little more than that. More like half a million. Each."

Nick's eyes widened and ears perked and his heart almost stopped. He had taken a lot of shocks in the last few hours. This topped them.

Judy choked. "Half a–?! Mister Mayor, where will you even get that money?!"

"Parks budget," he said simply.

"Oh, no, please, that's–" She cringed. "I mean, you can't."

"I'm sorry, has the _parks department_ ever stopped a conspiracy from destroying the city? As far as I'm aware, it has not. We can skimp on the swingsets, kids. You two earned this." He smiled. "Besides, consider it a down payment. Your first paycheck for your new job."

"What?"

"Hopps, you're hired!" His grin turned sheepish. "Not immediately, of course, that'd be ridiculous. Take as much time as you need. Go home and rest. Drink orange juice! You need to make new blood. But once you do, I want to put your talents to good use."

"Good use...?" Judy echoed dumbly.

"This city is safe again, thanks to you. But it's still scared. The citizens are reeling, and tension like this wouldn't dissipate overnight. Bellwether may be gone, but she did some damage." He leaned in. "That's why I need you. What you stand for. You could be a symbol of unity." A knowing smirk. "And once you're back in the field... I may have less _symbolic_ work for you."

Ah. Familiar territory. "Sounds good, sir."

"Glad to hear it."

"What about me?" said Nick. "You're not just sending me home, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" said Lionheart. "You two are partners, after all. Though Mariah's a bit dubious about having _two_ vigilantes. Says it's a numbers thing..."

"Um... whoever 'Mariah' is, she needn't worry." Nick was resolute. "I have a different idea."

"Oh?"

He smiled weakly. "This... this sounds so stupid that I think my mouth is trying to pre-emptively reject it, but... I want to be a cop."

Judy blinked. "You...?"

Lionheart was surprised too, but he recovered. "Interesting! Following in her pawprints, eh? Yes, yes... I love this idea! The first fox cop, right alongside the first rabbit..." Lionheart grinned hungrily into the middle distance. "That's so _marketable_..."

"Uh... sure." Nick grinned too. "What's the requirement for police academy? Just a clear criminal record? That's already in the bag thanks to you, New Best Friend!"

Lionheart chuckled. "Yes, yes. Like I said, no problem." He put a claw to his chin. "To my understanding, you'll also need a college degree..."

"You're looking at a proud graduate of Greentail Community College."

"Good enough!" said Lionheart brightly. "Just about..."

Judy went to say something, but decided against it. They looked too happy. She let them have their moment.

Not that it lasted. Lionheart was always brisk. "We'll hammer out the details later. I'd better head. Lots to do. Gonna stick my head in on Gary on the way out – he's down the hall, if you want to visit. Chances are he'll get to you first, though."

"Is he okay?" said Judy.

"He's fine. He knows Larry will be too, in time, and that's keeping him going. His arm's pretty bad, but, uh... he's much more concerned about..." Lionheart gestured to his neck, laughing. "They have him in one of those cone things! He _hates_ it! God, it's hilarious."

Nick and Judy did not laugh.

Lionheart trailed off. The room got a little colder. "What? I'm trying to see the funny side, that's all. I don't need your judgement."

Judy raised her paws. "We're not–"

"You better not be." By now the air was icy. "No-one felt this crisis worse than me. I lost three good men. More are injured, one of them hanging by a thread. And there is no way in _hell_ I am letting their sacrifices be in vain. I am going to destroy every single piece of Bellwether that remains, every accomplice, every idea, every strand of wool. If it's the last goddamn thing I do."

"Of – of course," said Nick.

Lionheart watched them both. "I hate to end things on a sour note... but there's something I should make clear right now."

He glanced down to his tie, straightening the red fabric with slow, deliberate movements.

"The official line is that _we_ fixed this. My operation saved the infected individuals, while you two took out the cause: Bellwether. This was a team effort. And it still is."

Eyes, stony, still on the tie.

"I have a lot of enemies. A lot of people who might... dispute my narrative. That's politics. Nothing I can't handle. But hypothetically, if something _did_ happen to me, to my administration... well, that pardon I just signed for you wouldn't be so effective, would it?"

He looked up. No trace of humour remained. Only scars.

"You're my people now. So I trust that I can count on you. Are we clear?"

Judy nodded. "Yes, sir."

There was a pause. Nick realized Lionheart was waiting for him. "Uh – yeah. Yes."

"Good."

Just as suddenly, he brightened again. He went for the door.

"Well, I'll be seeing you. Rest well – you earned it. I knew you were destined for greatness! Moment I laid eyes on you. Never doubted you for a second..."

And like that, he was gone.

"Man... did that creep you out too?" said Judy. "Or is that just the blood loss talking...?"

"No. That was pretty creepy. I hope we made the right decision."

"'Decision'? Nick, what decision? The second the ZPD started hunting me, we ran out of options."

Nick shrugged. "Well, there was one option. You could've given up at any time. Skipped town and hoped things worked out by themselves. And you didn't."

"Neither did you."

"Guess not."

Judy seemed terse. Nick cleared his throat.

"You... alright?"

Her little mouth twisted. "I'm... trying to find a polite way of phrasing this..."

"You're recovering from almost fatal injuries. I'm used to getting yelled at. Let me have it, Hopps."

Judy took a long breath, through her nose, then let him have it. "Why would you _possibly_ want to be a cop?! They'll treat you like garbage, Nick. Worse than me!"

"Well, you've been nicer to me lately," said Nick with a quiet smirk.

"You know that's not what I meant. I worked so hard to make it into the ZPD, and I screwed up, big time! Yesterday, I hit one of Precinct One's finest officers with a _trashcan!_ Do you really think they'll trust you? Judy Hopps' _fox_ friend?"

Nick wasn't looking at her. His eyes were on the window again. "...All I can do is hope they will."

Judy scoffed. "Nick Wilde, famous optimist. What changed?"

"What changed," said Nick levelly, "is that I killed somebody."

Silence. Judy hadn't realized how cold the room was until now. She could feel her fur standing on end. "Who? Bellwether?"

"Yeah. When I said I stopped her, I..." He swallowed. "Yeah."

Judy was quiet for a moment. Then she rallied. "She was crazy. She needed to be taken down."

"I know, I know! But..."

"You feel guilty? Seriously? All the lives you must've saved–"

"By _killing_ someone!" he snapped, finally dragging his eyes back to her. "What part of this don't you get?!"

An uncomfortable pause followed. Nick sighed, ears flat.

"Sorry. No sense yelling at you. It's just – I don't think I can call this a victory. Maybe if you'd done it, you could've... I dunno." He took a deep breath, then it out slowly. "...She's dead. There were probably other ways of solving that problem, but I went for the easy option, and now... yeah." His voice trailed into a choke. "Yeah."

Judy's voice was soft. "You really feel bad, huh?"

"I do. Maybe it's dumb, but... I really do." He brought his eyes back to her. She saw a strength there. "So the next time this happens, I want to do it right. I want to know _how_ to do it right. Not just throw something together that happens to work by sheer chance. And I think police training is the best way to get that."

Judy met his gaze. Then she closed her eyes with a soft chuckle.

"Jeez, Hopps, you don't have to laugh at me..."

"No, it's not that..." She looked up, tired but wry. "I just realized... I sound _exactly_ like my parents. If you want to be a cop, be a cop. Anyone can be anything, right?"

He perked up. "Thanks, Judy."

"I'd be more than happy to help you apply. I still have all my textbooks, and once I'm back on my feet, I can prepare you for the physical training."

"Yeah!" He was getting enthusiastic now. It was a little odd. But endearing. "And if you get your job back, we could even be partners!"

"Oh – oh yeah. Maybe." Uniforms. Badges. Regulations. Rules. _Bogo_. The job she had fought for since childhood. Her dream.

...Not any more. Not after the glorious freedom of the night.

Instead, she channelled Nick – and didn't let any indication of her thoughts flicker on her face. "Hey, do me a favour. Find Lionheart before he leaves. Beg him not to give us one million dollars of municipal money. Stall him or something."

He winked. "Got it, boss. I'll be happy to heroically step in and take your share off your hands."

Judy scowled playfully. "Get out of here, you dumb fox!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

He went. Judy listened as his footsteps grew dimmer. Soon, the room was silent except for the quiet beeping of medical machinery.

Judy took a deep breath, settling back into the bed. She closed her eyes and tried to relax.

She opened her eyes again.

Her hands worried the bedsheets. She shifted. She looked to the window, the beautiful blue sky outside. But it was too distant. Slowly, her purple eyes travelled back to her helmet. Red all too real. She stared at it.

It stared back.

* * *

 _ **boom. done. yes. touchdown. hoooooo boy**_

 _ **Well, here we are! Fun fact: this is my first novel-length story that isn't a crossover! That said, it's basically "**_ **Zootopia** _ **as Netflix!**_ **Daredevil** _ **, produced by Rooster Teeth, narrated by budget Lemony Snicket", so I don't think I ended up too far out of my comfort zone. That said that said, it's honestly a relief to finally have this story wrapped up. Good to be on the other side.**_

 _ **My infinite thanks to everyone who read this, and that goes triple for those of you kind enough to leave comments. Special shout-out to people who said something along the lines of "Oh, is this going to happen?" or "I bet the next chapter will go like this!", because half the time my reaction was "man, that's a great idea, too bad i didn't think of that". Once again, this story was proof-read by my great sister Sparklefists. Writing buddies~!**_

 _ **In the (extremely unlikely) event you want more, I've got some**_ **Zootopia** _ **one-shots, one of which –**_ **"** **Patient Zero"** _ **– now retroactively functions as a brief prequel to this story. Hooray for re-using OCs! I also have a longer fic,**_ **"Of Heists and Hustles"** _ **, which I'm super proud of. It's a crossover (see?) with**_ **Sly Cooper** _ **, but the focus is on Nick and Judy, and multiple people have told me they greatly enjoyed it despite only knowing**_ **Zootopia** _ **. Lucky, considering how the**_ **SC** _ **fandom is so, so tiny in comparison.**_

 _ **Well, enough from me. Thanks again, and see you around!**_


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